The Mentalist: Eyes Like The Sea
by waterbaby134
Summary: Collaboration with the brilliant Donnamour1969. Fate, aided by Abbot, sends Jane back to South America in pursuit of an arms dealer. Lisbon, left behind in Texas, is kept in the dark when her partner falls off the grid again without a trace. Torn apart once more, this time the separation could be permanent. Rated T/M for violence and sensuality.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Welcome to the fourth collaborative effort between myself and the fabulous Donnamour1969! Writing with her is something I enjoy very much, and I'm thrilled that we're doing it again.**

**This will be the first time that we have worked off an idea of mine rather than Donna's and I can only hope that I can live up to the high standards she has set.**

**As always, when we write together you can expect some action, some mystery and a truckload of Jane and Lisbon love (and a little lust.) It will begin life as a 'T' rated story that will no doubt become 'M' at some stage.**

**I know I speak for both of us when I say how much I hope you will enjoy it. **

**It's my turn to do the opening chapter, so without further ado, here it is...**

**Chapter 1 **

Jane arrived at work to find a sticky note affixed to his new couch, a jarring spot of yellow against the cushions. Impossible to miss.

"_Jane,"_ it read. "_Progress meeting at 11. Be there."_

He recognised the flowing script of Kim Fischer, the distinctive loops on the 'g's a dead giveaway. He supposed this must be her attempt at asking him nicely to be present at this meeting. It needed some work. He crumpled the note up in his fist, contemplated throwing it back onto Fischer's desk, but tossed it into the trash instead. There'd be plenty of time to mess with her at the meeting after all, no doubt they'd be talking about paperwork and budgets and all the other tedious crap that went along with police work.

It was 8:40. Time enough for a quick powernap before the drudgery set in for another day. In the background, agents called out to each other, machines hummed and the smell of coffee permeated the air. He used to have no trouble falling asleep to the sounds of the crime-solving machine that was a police office building, but since South America, he'd been more accustomed to rolling waves, whistling wind and birdsong. He'd had the freedom to go to sleep and to get up whenever he liked, no rules, no obligations. Sometimes he missed it. His days spent in the pursuit of his own pleasures, and his nights in quiet reflection. It had been a mainly solitary existence, but he'd liked it that way. He'd never been one to need a lot of company.

He was woken by a gentle hand on his arm and a soft voice in his ear.

"Let's go, Jane. Meeting in five minutes."

He felt Lisbon's small hand shake him slightly in an attempt to rouse him. Once upon a time she would have simply kicked him to wake him up if she wanted something. As the years had gone on, the kicking had subsided, and he for one, certainly preferred the new approach. He liked that he could tell how close she was to him, just by her quiet breathing or the smell of her perfume, and her breath tickling his ear sent a pleasurable chill throughout his whole body. Even waking to the soothing ebb and flow of the ocean couldn't top that.

Opening his eyes to see her rosebud lips pursed in irritation at his laziness, but her beautiful eyes gazing down at him with that tiny glint of affection he'd come to look out for every time she looked at him.

The simple wonders of nature were all well and good, but there were certainly compensations to being Stateside again.

He huffed out a small laugh at his own sentimentality. Missing her for two years had turned his thought processes into those of a tortured hero in an Austen novel. His father would cringe if he knew. He'd discouraged emotion of any kind, particularly towards anybody outside the carnie life.

"You'll thank me for it one day, son." Jane still remembered the clink of the ice cubes as they were swilled around in his father's favourite glass. "There's only one person in the world you can trust absolutely, and that's yourself."

That was one of many things his father had been wrong about.

"Do I have to?" The words left his mouth like a petulant whine, and the roll of her eyes told him that this reaction had been expected.

"We all have to do things we don't like sometimes, Jane." Taking her cue from him, she addressed him in the same condescending tone as she would a toddler. "It's part of being an adult. Deal with it."

She looked up as Kim Fischer passed by, laden with files. The two women exchanged brief but friendly nods of acknowledgement, and he was glad. It had taken some time for Lisbon to begin to feel accepted by their new colleagues, tainted as she was by her association with him. She was far too stubborn to go out and make acquaintances herself, just kept her head down and got on with things, and they had started to see her in a whole new light. She had always had that ability, an aura of trustworthiness and all-around goodness that drew people to her.

The only downside to it was that now he had to get used to sharing her. Once he'd come back to the U.S he'd had the idea in his head that they'd go back to the way they'd used to be; he and Lisbon against the world. Instead, she was having coffee with Fischer on weekends, and attending after-work drinks with big groups of colleagues on Wednesday nights. She seemed happy to be included in the more social aspect of the FBI, but he found that he missed their quiet nights of the CBI era, when they'd talk and talk until just the two of them and Hans, the night cleaner were left in the building. It felt like a lifetime ago.

These days, he was lucky to get her alone for a few minutes at a time, before a case or an acquaintance came up demanding her attention.

"Come on," she urged him now. "We're going to be late." A glance at her arms revealed that she too, was carrying a bulging manila folder. She must have been hard at it this morning, while he'd been sleeping. He couldn't help the little smirk that formed at the thought; at least some things hadn't changed.

"You shouldn't work so hard," he said, stretching his arms towards the ceiling, and finally edging himself off the couch. "Who are you trying to impress, anyway? Fischer? Abbot?"

She glared at him. "I'm trying to put a killer behind bars. Which is more than can be said for you. Have you done _anything_ productive this morning?"

He reluctantly fell into step beside her as they headed for the conference room. "Of course," he said, through a yawn. "Experts say that power napping at work can increase productivity by a significant percentage you know."

She snorted. "Two hours is not a powernap. It's just plain lazy. Don't," she added suddenly as he reached up to try and tidy his messy hair. "It looks better that way."

He let his hand fall to his side obediently, and caught the faintest tinge of a blush on her cheek as she turned her head away in embarrassment. She didn't speak again as they passed through the corridors, leaving him to ponder over when he'd started letting her opinions have such influence over his appearance. He'd planned to get rid of the beard once he'd got back to the States, but she'd liked it, so it had stayed. And if she had a preference for his hair tousled from sleep, then so be it, he wouldn't touch a comb for the rest of the day. Surely the fact that she paid enough attention to notice these things meant something, and the desire to be alone with her increased threefold.

"Let's go to lunch today," he said, as Fischer's bossy voice became audible from a room at the end of the corridor; the meeting had started. "After the meeting. We can go to that Italian place down the street you've been dying to go to."

She'd been mentioning it in passing for weeks, but with one thing and another, hadn't seemed to have the time to go. Putting the rest of the world first, as usual.

"We've got a case," she protested. "They need us here."

"They can spare us for an hour," he said airily. "Even crack investigative teams need to eat. And we'll be close by if something really urgent comes up."

He could see she was torn, as she often was, between her own desires and her sense of duty.

"We could bring the rest of the team too," she suggested. "Maybe the food and the change of scene will help us think." He shook his head. Dear Lisbon, always looking to find the compromise between work and play, but he was a man who preferred to deal in absolutes.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. "No work. Nobody else. Just us."

He silently willed her to understand his meaning. He wanted their old partnership back, even if just for an hour. He missed their friendship, the intimacy they'd once had, even if it wasn't quite the same intimacy he'd always hoped for. He wanted her to himself again.

She glanced back at him. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" she sighed. He grinned at her, recognizing the signs of her acquiescence. He could always tell when she was about to cave; her mouth always made itself into that cute little pout.

"Would you really want me any other way?"

As predicted, the progress meeting was hardly the exciting spectacle people imagined when they thought about federal agents at work. There was a lot less kicking down doors, and a lot more sitting around in conference rooms quibbling over statistics in crime fighting than people would expect.

He looked over at Lisbon, pen and notebook in hand, listening attentively as Fischer spouted out facts and figures. She'd chastised them both for their lateness, and while he had simply shrugged at the senior agent and taken his seat, Lisbon had apologised sincerely, and was now playing the part of the perfect schoolgirl to make up for it.

He let his mind wander as Fischer droned on. Agent Geraldson had overslept this morning, evidenced by his unironed shirt and the strong cologne he'd applied to compensate for skipping a shower. Agent Clark, seated by the window, was worrying about her sick son back at home. Chicken pox, he suspected; there was cotton wool protruding from the top of her bag and she carried a strong smell of calamine lotion with her. Agent Du Plant seemed to have popped an extra button or two on her blouse this morning, presumably for the benefit of Agent Reeves, whose eye she had been trying to catch for the last week. She was wasting her time there; he had felt Reeves' eyes on himself too often to believe he could be straight. Jane had to admit though that Reeves did an admirable job of concealing it; he was pretty sure that nobody else had caught on yet. Cho of course, ever stoic, listened calmly to the briefing, and ignored Jane's attempts to get his attention.

Fischer calling his name jerked him out of his quiet contemplation of his colleagues.

"Patrick? Do you feel you might honour us with your opinion? Or are we boring you?"

"You_ are _boring me," he replied, calmly. The assembled agents snickered, but were silenced by a quelling look from their superior. "But I do have something to add."

He'd figured out their killer that morning, in between catnaps on the couch. When Fischer cast him a doubtful look at the name he told them, he simply smiled and explained in precise detail exactly what had drawn him to that conclusion. In spite of herself, Fischer looked impressed as he explained why and how their victim's brother had taken her life. Essentially, It had all come down to shoes in the end; there'd been a leaf from the murder scene stuck to the sole, and as for motive, it turned out to be a family squabble that hadn't been able to be fixed. Pretty run of the mill stuff really, which any trained FBI agent should have been able to figure out; but the series of dumbfounded looks from around the room told him that he had, once again, expected too much of the federal government.

Fischer's disgruntled expression was something to behold as he casually tossed out that opinion to the room. In response, the senior agent forbade him from accompanying them to the arrest, and set Lisbon the task of keeping watch on him until they got back. This suited Jane just fine, and he sensed, rather than saw Lisbon's smirk when she realized what he'd done. They now had an ironclad excuse to have lunch together, and with the rest of the team off chasing killers, he was almost guaranteed of their privacy.

Around him, agents began to gather up papers and rise from chairs as Fischer called an end to the meeting, and advised the team to prepare to pick up their suspect. Before anybody could leave however, the imposing silhouette of Agent Abbot appeared in the doorway, blocking the exit.

"All done in here, Agent Fischer?" he asked and she nodded.

"I think we've finally got the break we've been waiting for sir," she answered. "We'll have our man in custody within the hour."

"Excellent," he said briskly, before inclining his head in Jane's direction. "Jane can we have a word?"

Like most people, Abbot's personal office space was a reflection of himself; ordered and dull. Bare grey walls, no personal items on his desk and no indications at all of his life outside the office. Jane wondered if he had a wife or children, or even friends. He couldn't picture the man embracing a child, or sharing a romantic meal with a woman. He couldn't even see him sitting at a bar, nursing a beer and laughing with friends. He imagined the senior agent as a solitary being; not at all unlike himself, come to think of it. The idea was unsettling.

"I take it that the breakthrough Agent Fischer mentioned was your doing, Jane?" Abbot motioned for him to sit, and Jane reluctantly sank into the chair opposite his. He had been hoping to make this a short visit. Fischer had taken Lisbon aside after the meeting to discuss something with her but he had felt his partner's eyes on him as he followed Abbot from the room. Damn the man. He could be tucked into a booth at the Italian place right about now, gazing into Lisbon's beautiful jade green eyes, instead of here staring at Abbot's cold brown ones.

"What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold."

Abbot chuckled. "And don't I know it? That reputation of yours was the reason I spent two years, and exorbitant amounts of government money trying to track you down."

"Fischer tracked me down," Jane pointed out.

"Yes." Abbot gave a small, mocking smile. "Well you know what they say. Never send a man to do a woman's job."

Jane nodded his head briefly, acknowledging the jab. Clearly Abbot was of the opinion that he and Fischer had slept together in South America. He wondered if Abbot had been the one to select Kim Fischer for the job, had perhaps chosen her for her resemblance to the woman he'd been writing to those two long years. If so, he'd chosen well. Kim's dark hair and pale complexion had put Lisbon immediately into his mind when they'd met, but nobody could exactly replicate the warmth in her smile, or her gentle touch. Still, he could appreciate the clever touch to the plan; once again, something he himself would have done.

"I know there's a point here, Abbot," said Jane, in measured tones. "Instead of insulting both of our intelligences any further, how about you get to it?"

Abbot chuckled, leaning forward in his chair.

"Have it your way then." He reached into a drawer, pulled out a file, and slapped it down in front of Jane. "Do you recognise this man?" Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on. "His name is Cesar Castillo, and he's the leader of the largest crime syndicate in the Americas. We've received intelligence that his group is responsible for supplying automatic weapons to several major criminal gangs, here in the States."

Jane studied the picture of a squat man, with a weather-beaten face, narrow shoulders and a large nose. He certainly didn't look the part of a dangerous criminal; though the masterminds rarely did. The more average the face, the better to move in and out of the public eye without notice. A quick glance over Castillo's rap sheet showed numerous offences but none of any particular note. Guns, drugs, women, money laundering, and so on.

"Well you've identified your man, and you know his crimes," he said, pushing the folder back to Abbot. "Congratulations. Go get him"

"Well that's just it, Jane," said Abbot. "We can't find him. The group moves around constantly, and our informants and our agents have the unfortunate habit of ending up dead."

"How inconvenient." Jane kept his tone even, but a cold feeling had begun to take up residence in his stomach. He had an idea where this interview was heading, and he didn't like it one bit. According to the file, the last known location of the syndicate's headquarters lay a mere few miles away from the village where he'd lived in South America. The idea of this kind of ugliness being in such close proximity to the idyllic little piece of paradise he'd known made him want to be sick.

For the first time, something like anger passed over Abbot's face. "Inconvenient?" he echoed. "I've lost five good people to them so far. Tragic would be the word I'd use."

"Tragic," Jane agreed. "So why are you so keen to add to the body count?" At Abbot's start of surprise, he rolled his eyes. "That is why I'm here, right?" he asked.

Jane had plenty of experience of paper-pushers in the top jobs dancing around sensitive issues and not getting to the point, even when they both knew exactly what they wanted to ask. To his credit, Special Agent Abbot was not one of them. Abandoning the pretence, he pushed the file back towards Jane once more.

"You're known in the community, so you won't draw as much attention as an agent. You speak some Spanish, and lies and deception are your bread and butter." Abbot ticked off points on his long fingers as he spoke. "You can certainly stay under the radar when you choose to, and I bet you have a list of shady contacts as long as your arm over there. You're the perfect choice."

"What an honour," said Jane flatly. "If I'm going to be sent to another country as cannon fodder, I wouldn't want to be underqualified."

"You'll link up with our small team in South America when you arrive," Abbot went on as if there had been no interruption, "but you'll work independently. You will locate the syndicate, and infiltrate it, gathering as much information as you can. Then, when we feel we have enough intel, you'll be removed and we'll make the arrest."

"It won't work. If you've been sending undercover agents in already they'll be even more distrustful than usual. You may as well save me a trip and shoot me here and now."

"Don't tempt me."

Silence fell as the two men held one another's gaze, and Jane experienced a sensation he'd only ever previously shared with Lisbon, a conversation without the use of words; Abbot giving the order, and himself refusing it. He did not sign on to the FBI to go traipsing through the South American jungle in search of gun-wielding maniacs. The only firearm he ever actually wanted in his life was Lisbon's Glock, and just because she didn't look herself without it.

"I'm not going," he said, breaking the silence as though he were shattering glass. "I'll take another round in the detention suite over a suicide mission."

"I thought you might say that. But it won't be a detention suite this time, Jane. It'll be federal prison for you. You agreed to work for us, and a large part of that is doing what you're told. Or is that something Lisbon never taught you back at the CBI?" A malicious gleam appeared in his eyes. "No doubt she had her own means of keeping you in line…" He trailed off into silence.

Hot anger began to rise in Jane's throat. He would happily take any insult thrown his way but he would not tolerate slights on Lisbon, especially not from the likes of Abbot, who wasn't fit to shine her shoes as far as Jane was concerned.

"Go ahead," he said stubbornly. "Throw me in prison." He'd done it before after all, he could do it again. Anything would be preferable to walking into the death trap Abbot seemed to be intent on sending him to. The other man regarded him for a moment as though trying to puzzle him out. Well, let him try. Many before had tried and failed. His fingers tapped on the shiny mahogany desk.

"No, I don't think so," he said at last, as softly as a jungle cat approaching it's prey. "Incarceration doesn't seem to bother you Jane, at least, not enough. I seem to recall you spent three months in that detention suite quite cheerfully, but a visit from Teresa Lisbon changed your mind. I'll be the first to admit that you have few weaknesses Jane, but she would be one of them."

Outside, a telephone rang, and they heard the muffled voice of a secretary answering it. He hoped it would be Fischer, demanding his presence back in the bullpen, but she probably wouldn't be back from the raid yet. Lisbon would probably have left for lunch by now. She'd be wondering where he was; possibly fearing he had stood her up. Given the choice, he would much rather be with her now, or anywhere but here.

Abbot leaned forward in his seat, making an imposing figure against the midday sun.

"Seeing as you don't seem to respond to normal forms of persuasion, let me put it this way," he said. "We have an opening in the New York field office, and I think Agent Lisbon will be a very good fit there." He paused momentarily to let the implication sink in. "I can have the transfer papers drawn up by next week."

"You can't do that," Jane snarled. "It's against the contract we signed."

Once again, Abbot smiled, pleasantly this time. "On the contrary, your 'contract' stated that I was to offer Lisbon a job with the FBI, which I have done. It specified nothing about what was to happen after that. I can send Agent Lisbon wherever I like."

He left it at that, settling back in his chair again, and waiting for Jane's answer.

He hadn't thought it possible, but Abbot had his back against a wall. Objectively, it had been a brilliant move on his superior's part, something Jane would have appreciated more had he not been battling the urge to throw something at him. The one thing he had refused to accept when he'd come back here was to be separated from Lisbon any longer, and now Abbot had used his affection for his partner against him. Perhaps it was poetic justice. After all, hadn't he done the exact same thing to her just before they'd taken down Red John?

It wasn't often that Patrick Jane was outplayed, and he didn't care for it at all. It was a choice between two evils, take off to South America for God knew how long and undoubtedly with no means of contacting her, or watch her be sent to the other end of the country and lose her anyway.

Agent Abbot waited, and savoured the rare gift of witnessing the great Patrick Jane on the back foot. He had been planning all day about the best way to propose the idea to him, and thought now that he could not have chosen better. Capturing Castillo would be the kind of coup that came along only once in a career. He could be promoted to the topmost rungs of the FBI, reach the dizzying heights that people had told him he was destined for since Quantico. To do it, he would need to put his best foot forward on the case; and Jane was it. He was arrogant, rude, disrespectful and a loose cannon in every respect, but he was also the best damn investigator Abbot had ever come across. He made a mockery of the job, but he got it done every time without fail.

So he'd taken a hint from the Godfather and made the man an offer he simply couldn't refuse. Teresa Lisbon was the key; the one chink in Jane's armour. He'd guessed as much when Jane had demanded her as one of his conditions, and observing them in the office had only strengthened the suspicions that were already there. Finally ,he'd been able to put them to use.

He could almost see the wheels turning in the consultant's head, knew his reason was battling with his pride. It had always been a risk, this plan, but he was banking on the hope that his fancy for Lisbon would cloud his judgement enough to win out.

Five tense minutes passed, and he willed himself not to break the silence. He must not speak, or blink, or give Jane any kind of ammunition against him. So he waited. Jane blew out a long sigh.

"You'll get yours one day, Abbot, and I can assure you that I'll look forward to it."

To some, it would have seemed like a threat, but to Abbot, it meant only one thing.

Victory.

* * *

The restaurant was filled with couples. Soft music swirled around the room along with the delicious smells of pizza and pasta. Even for a weekday lunchtime, the ambience was intimate and romantic.

Lisbon hadn't seen Jane since Abbot had come to collect him from the conference room, well over half an hour ago. God only knew what Jane had done this time. He and Abbot had never gotten on well.

A gilt-edged mirror on the opposite window drew her eye, winking in the sun. Her own reflection stared back at her and she studied it dispassionately. Her lipstick needed reapplying, she noticed. Would she have time to go to the bathroom and fix it before he got here? Probably not. She compromised by straightening her collar, and pushing some errant strands of hair back behind her ear.

Looking away from the mirror, she felt embarrassed at herself. Did she really think that these tiny adjustments would make Jane see her the way she'd always wanted him to? That the moving of her collar that quarter-inch would finally make him take off that wedding ring and tell her that she was the only one he could ever want? If she had the courage, she would have told him that a million times over by now. She didn't even remember how long ago she had fallen for him; it had seemed to become part of her now.

A bell above the door tinkled and in he strode, sea-green eyes darting around the room, searching for her. As always, the world seemed to stop as the eyes of the diners turned towards him, and the restaurant itself seemed to draw a collective breath. She didn't think she'd ever get used to that smile, she thought as he located her at last and walked over, beaming at her. She saw several women's eyes follow his progress across the room, and the flashes of envy when they landed on her. She felt no sympathy for them. If they only knew the trouble he caused, and the way he had toyed with her for ten years, they might not be undressing him with their eyes.

Oh, who was she kidding? Ten years on, and she still did it every day.

He forced himself to smile when he found her, sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. She looked relieved to see him and well she might. Abbot had detained him for so long he thought she might have left.

Abbot. Just thinking about him made him angry. He'd had no alternative but to concede to the man's demands. Losing Lisbon to the New York office was out of the question. She'd already given her up her life to come here to Texas; she'd never forgive him if he were the cause of uprooting her again.

He was flying out to South America early the following day. Abbot had given him the rest of the afternoon off to pack and prepare, but he had been strictly forbidden to tell anybody where he was going. Including Lisbon. They'd argued that point for a long time, but the senior agent had been implacable; the mission was on a need to know basis and apparently his partner did not fit the bill.

She smiled at him as he sat down and said something about impossible bosses that he didn't quite catch. Even while fuming at Abbot, the sight of her still lifted his spirits. Her hair shone and her eyes sparkled under the soft lights. She was so beautiful, and now he had to find a way to tear himself away from her side. Again.

"What took you so long?" she asked as he discarded his jacket and reached for the menu.

A question he couldn't possibly answer truthfully. "Bureaucratic nonsense," he mumbled instead and she nodded, taking a sip of her water.

"I have to admit, I sure don't miss that," she laughed. "Abbot tried to talk you into not being a jerk to the press?"

It seemed like as good an excuse as any, and his answer came in the form of a shrug.

"Well, all power to him," she said. "I'd like to know if he ever figures out the secret. Professional interest." She smiled a little at her own joke, and once again, he found himself smiling back. He mustn't give her any indication that something was wrong, or he would never be able to shake her off when lunch was over. She would ask him and beg him to tell her what had happened and in his frustration, and his distress at having to leave her again, he just might tell her. And then they'd both be in trouble.

The waitress came to take their order and they chose a pizza to share. As they waited for the food she told him all about the arrest of their killer. Fischer and the team had brought him back without incident, but up till now, they still hadn't gotten a confession out of him.

"It's clear that he did it though," she said. "He's just smart enough not to talk. Although, Cho hasn't had a turn with him yet, and neither have you. Maybe you should try when we get back."

"I'm not going back today." He averted his eyes, but still noticed her flinch with surprise. "I've got things to do this afternoon. Cover for me with Abbot?" It was lucky he was such a good liar. It wasn't a skill he was particularly proud of, but it had it's uses.

She let her stern glare rest on him for a moment. "This isn't the same as cutting class you know. One day, Abbot isn't going to believe me anymore, and then where will you be?"

Quickly, Jane steered the conversation away from their boss, and they spent a happy ten minutes catching up on office gossip. Had talking to her always put this swooping feeling into his stomach, or was it just because he'd be leaving her soon that made him feel this way? He watched her in awe as she told a long story, every tiny movement fascinating, a thing of unequalled beauty. They'd wasted so much time. He'd never kissed her, never truly held her, never spent the night with her. He'd always thought she'd be as passionate in bed as she was in the workplace. Tenacious, and yet tender, somehow managing to be angry and so loving all at once.

He could do it tonight, he thought, as the pizza arrived and she was distracted by thanking the waitress. He could take her home; seduce her, make love to her in her bed. It wouldn't be difficult. They both wanted to. There was still time.

Her skin would be so soft; her lips so delicious, her voice breathless as she sighed his name. He would tell her he loved her as she fell asleep. And again when he woke up and left her alone again. But he couldn't do it to her. He at least owed her that.

"What are you thinking?" she asked him, after the waitress had left. "You've got a really weird look on your face. Like your mind's a million miles away."

He chuckled. "Not quite that far," he said. If only she knew. "Let's eat."

Somehow, some way, his saintly Lisbon managed to distract him from anything else. Even his anger with Abbot took a back seat as they talked and laughed together. The pizza slowly disappeared piece by piece and the time seemed to fly. Their lunch hour had long passed but he didn't care. If things went badly in South America, he might never see her again. He took the opportunity to catalogue as many of her features as he could, all the expressions in her face, and the many hues of green in her eyes.

She had a bit of cheese on the side of her face, gone unnoticed as she told him about Fischer's boyfriend trouble, as she'd found out at coffee last week. Picking up his napkin, he reached over and gently wiped the offending cheese from her cheek.

She froze as the linen touched her cheek, the intimate gesture apparently unexpected, and her eyes met his again, questioning, and to his despair, hoping. She wanted so little from him and yet he disappointed her every time.

He let the napkin fall to the table, but his hand remained, stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch. He could lean right over, kiss her now, whisper in her ear.

With a clattering sound, the waitress returned, gathering up their empty plates as she did so. The spell was broken. They had to leave now, or he was sure that he would do something he would come to regret. They paid the bill and stood under the shaded walkway outside the restaurant.

She tried to talk him back into coming back to work, but he refused, wishing he could tell her why.

"OK, then," she said with a shrug. "See you tomorrow then, I guess."

It was here. The final moment. But how to say goodbye to her? A handshake seemed too formal, a hug, not formal enough, and she'd suspect something was up. And he couldn't just say goodbye to her casually as though they'd see each other tomorrow, when they might never see each other again.

He took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together, feeling her pulse skittering. He would have loved to know what she was thinking. He was thinking of her lithe body naked in his arms. Holding her. Tasting her. Loving her.

"Jane?" Her voice was quiet, questioning. "What are you doing?"

He wanted to pull her into his arms. Instead, he squeezed her slender hand once, and then let it go. He heard her let go of a breath she'd been holding then, and knew that he had disappointed her again, possibly for the very last time.

And then, for the umpteenth time, he walked out of her life.

**A/N So that is chapter 1. I'd love to hear what you thought of it, and I really hope you'll stick around to find out what awaits our dynamic duo.**

** For now, Donna, I'm tapping you in.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was honored when waterbaby proposed we write together again, and even more so when she showed me her first chapter! I was excited to add onto what she'd so brilliantly begun, especially when I saw the great reception she'd (rightfully) received for it. So, now, I've done my level best to follow her beautiful introduction. I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Lisbon arrived at the FBI field office at her usual time, 8:30 on the dot. She went straight for the break room where she found Cho, pouring his own first cup of coffee. They exchanged polite good mornings, then he updated her on the status of his suspect interrogation. It had been fruitful. Cho had managed to help the guy dig himself into a confession before he'd even lawyered up. The case was over.

"Good to know you haven't lost your touch," said Lisbon, a note of pride in her tone. Though Cho was just a few years younger than she, she'd watched him grow as a detective and cop to become the most brilliant interrogator she'd ever seen. Now, there was seemingly no criminal immune to his methods.

"Thanks," he replied modestly. "Jane too. He didn't even need to meet any of the suspects or interview any witnesses on this one. Fischer's face yesterday in the meeting was priceless." He almost smiled in remembrance.

Lisbon nodded. "Poor girl," said Lisbon with a light chuckle. "She'll be better off if she just lets Jane be Jane and not try to understand him or predict what he'll do next."

Cho smirked. "Cut her some slack. It's only taken us what—_twelve years_ to figure this out?"

Fischer chose that moment to enter the room, coffee cup in hand. The two old colleagues wondered how long she'd been there, if she was already lining up for a refill.

"Cut _who_ some slack?" Fischer asked, unashamedly admitting her eavesdropping.

"You," said Cho.

He took his coffee and headed back to the bullpen, leaving Lisbon to deal with Fischer. She resisted the urge to shake her fist at him, but then she met Fischer's expectant gaze. Lisbon blushed a little at being caught talking about her new colleague behind her back.

"We, uh, were just saying that it's no use trying to guess what Jane might do. Best to confine your energies to cleanup duty after the fact."

Fischer smirked. "And you should cut me some slack because I haven't come to this conclusion yet through my own limited experience with the man?"

"Exactly," replied Lisbon, who finished with the cream and put it back in the refrigerator.

"Speaking of the devil," said Fischer, adding sugar to her own cup. "Have you seen him yet this morning?"

"No. But I wouldn't worry. He tends to come and go as he pleases... like the wind," she said with an ironic grin and a dramatic waft of her hand.

Fischer returned her smile. "So I've noticed."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

But by noon, when Jane hadn't sauntered in like he owned the place, Lisbon began to have a niggling feeling of foreboding. Before she left for lunch, she took out her cell phone and called him.

It went directly to voicemail. She left a message.

"Hey. You're late. Late for _you_ even. I suggest you come in before Abbot sends out a posse."

Back at her desk after lunch, when no golden head could be seen resting on the arm of his couch, she shot him a text, trying not to sound too worried.

_Thursday's a work day, Jane, in case you'd forgotten. Where are you?_

Cho came in from lunch and she motioned to him from across the bullpen.

"Have you heard from Jane today?"

"No." He glanced at the couch, as if he'd magically appear. "It's only been a day," he said, because they'd both been there before.

"True," she said. Cho nodded and went back to his desk.

But by now, Lisbon was feeling a great deal of trepidation, especially since Osvaldo's murder a few weeks before. Whoever had killed him had put Jane and many other former CBI members on a list. Was it a hit list? She'd just gotten Jane back, but to lose him again, this time forever...she didn't want to contemplate it.

She took a deep breath and tried to focus on her work. But first, she felt compelled to send just one more text.

_If you've done this to me again Jane, I'll hunt you down and kick your ass._

She was only half kidding.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daylight the next morning found Lisbon in a trailer park a mile from the field office, pounding on the door of Jane's shiny new Airstream.

"Jane! Open up!"

His borrowed car was parked right beside the motor home, so she knew he hadn't driven away somewhere. Was he inside, deathly ill? Or—God forbid—_dead?_

"Jane!" her voice rose to a desperate pitch. She turned the doorknob and found it locked. She went around the vehicle and stood on tiptoe to look into his bedroom window. The blind was partially open, and she could clearly see the bed. It was empty, the gray comforter placed neatly beneath his wealth of down-filled pillows. There was no sign of foul play.

She put her forehead briefly on the cold, silver siding, closing her eyes, hovering on the verge of tears.

"You lookin' for Patrick, honey?" said an old woman who emerged from her single-wide trailer next door.

"Yes," said Lisbon hopefully. "I work with him. Have you seen him in the last two days?

"He was here yesterday morning, but a taxi came and got him. He waved and called to me to watch out for his place."

Lisbon's face must have shown her surprise and hurt, for the woman looked reluctant to tell her everything. "He had a bag with him," she said apologetically. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"Thanks," Lisbon replied, blinking back the tears. She managed a brief smile, then went back to her SUV. She got in slowly, then sat in her car and let the tears fall.

She couldn't believe he'd done it to her again. Just like Vegas. No goodbyes. No explanations. She remembered the last moment she'd seen him the day before yesterday. He'd held her hand before they parted. At the time, she'd been so overwhelmed by his touch that she hadn't contemplated its possible significance. She supposed it was his way of saying goodbye.

The coward.

The bastard.

"Goddammit Jane," she said aloud to the empty cab.

She couldn't believe the pain could be worse than before, but it was. She felt his abandonment like the twisting of an old knife in her heart-achingly familiar. She should have known. Should have expected it. _Fool me once_, she thought ironically, _but fool me __**four**__ times?_ _Who should feel the shame for that one? _

Lisbon didn't know how long she sat there, staring blearily at Jane's damned Airstream. She knew she would be late for work, that she probably shouldn't go in at all because everyone (especially Cho) would take one look at her and know. Even Cho wouldn't be able to hide his pity. She didn't think she could take that, but here, in this strange city, she could think of nowhere else to go. Her apartment was impersonal and cold, unlike the beautiful home she'd given up in Washington. _For him. _

She couldn't even hide out in her old office like she used to, because her desk was now in the middle of the bullpen where everyone would witness her heartbreak. She noticed Jane's neighbor going back into her trailer, after first shaking her head sadly in her direction. Lisbon took a deep, shaky breath, then reached into her pocket to pull out her keys. It was then that she noticed the new silver key that Jane had given her two weeks before when he'd first gotten his new Airstream. For emergencies, he'd said. At the time, she had been overwhelmingly touched. She looked at the key, remembering how her cheeks had flushed when he'd placed it in her open palm, the knowing, but slightly shy grin he'd given her as he closed her fingers over it and walked away.

He'd been excited about getting this motor home. Excited the day she'd agreed to work here in Austin with him. So thrilled when they had been reunited a few months before. So why the hell would he skip out of town now, after he'd gotten everything he'd wanted? Her initial thought that he had been in danger had been wiped away the moment his neighbor had said a taxi had picked him up. But what else could it be?

Lisbon wiped at her eyes and, with new determination, got out of her vehicle and went back to Jane's Airstream, using the shiny new key that exactly matched the motor home. Her detective instincts had kicked in, and suddenly she was through feeling sorry for herself. She wanted an explanation, no matter how painful, how much it twisted the knife.

She walked up the three steps to the side door, used the key. If Jane had left a clue to explain his disappearance, it would be in here.

The place was as neat as a pin, the teapot on the stove where he'd left it. She went to the back where his tiny bedroom was located. The entire room smelled like his aftershave, and she blinked back new tears. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she looked in the closet. A few familiar shirts and suits hung there, and it didn't appear that anything had been packed in a hurry. In the table beside his bed, she found his cell phone. She turned it on, saw the text messages she'd sent him, her missed phone calls. Without his phone, he couldn't be traced through its GPS. He didn't want to be found.

Ignoring the new stab of pain in her heart, she replaced the phone and continued her search.

In the small bathroom, basic toiletries were missing, as would be expected for a man leaving on a trip. The drawers in the kitchenette showed only utensils, silverware, odds and ends. A few bill stubs, dutifully marked _paid_ in his own hand, were in a cigar box with Spanish writing. She felt no guilt as she poured over his meager belongings. He'd given her a key, after all, and that entitled her to use it.

She moved to the cab of the vehicle to check the glove compartment. She had to use the key again to open it, and found his insurance records and a 9 mm pistol.

"Good boy," she muttered.

She didn't blame him at all, given what he'd been through, and it wasn't like the gun laws in Texas were very stringent. The fact that he'd left his weapon behind told her something else: wherever he went, it meant either he hadn't been afraid for his life, or he was flying on a plane and _couldn't _take it with him. A plane trip would also explain the taxi ride. He'd flown somewhere. She searched the cupboards and drawers again, but didn't find his passport. It didn't mean he hadn't stashed it in a safe deposit box somewhere, but, given Jane's past, she would think he'd want the document close at hand, just in case.

He'd left nothing to indicate where he'd gone, but flights could be checked, and Lisbon was in the FBI.

She pulled out her cell phone.

"Wiley," she said. "I need you to pull up flights out of Austin over the past twenty-four hours. Tell me what flight Jane was on."

"Sure thing, Agent Lisbon. Jane left?"

"He just went on a trip and I lost the itinerary he gave me," she said.

She hated lying, was glad she wasn't doing it face-to-face. She heard the fast clicking of his fingers on the keyboard.

"Do you know his destination? I'd be able to get the information more quickly."

She swallowed. "No. I uh, forgot that too." She cringed at how lame she sounded, and was grateful that Wiley didn't question her further.

A few minutes later, and she had her answer, though not the one she'd wanted.

"There are no records of Patrick Jane on any flights out of Austin," he told her. "Sorry, Agent Lisbon."

"Hm," she said, her stomach dropping. "I must have misunderstood. Thanks, Wiley," she said numbly, but before she disconnected, she had the presence of mine to say: "This is confidential, Wiley, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied importantly.

Lisbon wasn't giving up. Her next call was to Grace Van Pelt.

"Hey, Boss," she answered brightly. Lisbon didn't bother reminding her the moniker no longer applied. Old habits and all.

"Hello, Grace. Look, I need a favor." She hated being so short, but Lisbon was feeling sudden desperation washing over her. And she could trust Grace, so with great relief at simply being able to share her concerns with an understanding ear, she explained the situation.

"I'll do some digging," Grace said. "I have still have some contacts within the airline industry. Any idea of a possible alias he would use?"

She thought a moment. "No. But I might know one if I heard it."

"Okay, Boss. Give me a little while, and I'll see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, Grace."

Lisbon could imagine the redhead, face contorted in sympathy.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Even if Wayne and I have to come out there and help you look for him...Or shoot him."

For the first time in since Jane let go of her hand, Lisbon smiled. "Thanks. That's why I called you."

She hung up and took a seat by the window, looking out at the small duck pond in the middle of the trailer park. A father and his young son were fishing in it, the boy's little plastic rod and reel oddly making Lisbon's eyes water anew. Jane would have loved watching them; he loved children, and this little community was full of them.

_Why would he leave this?_

None of it made sense, and the more she began to pull out of her initial shock and grief, the more she was beginning to realize something was very, very fishy, and it wasn't just the pond outside the window.

She considered calling Cho, or even Abbot, but more than likely they would think she was overreacting, that Jane was just being Jane. He would turn up like the proverbial bad penny any moment, and it was pointless to worry unless there was something to indicate foul play. And the last thing she wanted to do was draw Abbot's attention to Jane's absence, especially if he'd left the country again. Maybe she could catch up with him, convince him to come back before Abbot even knew he was gone. She would tell Jane there was nothing they couldn't face together. He didn't have to run away again.

But first, she had to find him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back at her apartment, Lisbon opened her personal laptop and pulled up the passenger lists Van Pelt had e-mailed her. Austin International was a small airport, and only five flights had left the morning before, all making connecting flights in Houston. She scanned the names, all of them seeming fairly ordinary. That is, until she came across the name, Sherman Holmes. The similarity of this name to the famous detective Jane admired so much was too big of a coincidence. Plus, his connecting flight was to Caracas.

"Ah-ha," she said to herself with a triumphant grin. "Gotcha."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Twenty-four hours earlier...**_

"More tea, Mr. Holmes," asked the flight attendant warmly.

Jane looked up at her and gave her his most charming grin. "No, thank you. I'm wide awake now."

She returned his smile, her eyes flicking over his handsome face in appreciation. "Well, anything else you need, you let me know."

"Nice to know the skies are still so friendly," he quipped, and she blushed, then laughed breathily before reluctantly moving on to the next passenger.

Jane hadn't had much sleep the night before, and he wasn't dealing well with his old pal, Insomnia. He'd slept like a baby since he'd killed Red John, but leaving Lisbon again, knowing the pain he would cause her, was eating him up inside. He'd been so tempted to call her his fingers itched. All he'd need to do was say a few words to reassure her.

"_Abbot's sending me away for awhile, but don't worry; I'll be back."_

But he had no doubt Abbot was somehow watching him like a hawk, listening in. Lisbon too, more than likely. By now, she would be starting to worry, he thought, when he didn't show up for work at all. He'd been known to be late, but by noon she'd begin to be concerned. She'd make polite inquiries, trying to keep it together, trying not to panic. She'd ask Cho if he'd heard from him. She'd call him a few times. Leave messages, text.

By the next day, she would go to his Airstream, praying she wouldn't find him dead, like Ardiles. Of course she would think whoever had put them on some sort of hit list with Ardiles had gotten him too, and that's what really made him furious with Abbot. It was one thing to allow her to think he had left her for no reason; quite another to leave her wondering whether he'd been murdered.

He felt the weight in his jacket pocket of the burner phone Abbot had given him, felt the itch returning in his fingers.

He couldn't think of her now. He'd go back to his island, find this Castillo guy, and come home. He'd be able to explain everything to Lisbon after the fact, and, after she'd punched him in the nose a time or two, he'd grab her and kiss her like he'd always dreamed about doing, like he'd almost done at lunch the day before. He was pretty sure she'd forgive him after that, the kiss would be that good. He allowed himself a small smile of anticipation, and leaned back in his seat as the plane gently glided over the Gulf of Mexico, wending its way toward the Caribbean Sea.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sir," said Lisbon into the phone. "I'm afraid I won't be in today," she told Abbot. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Agent Lisbon. I'd be curious to know if whatever ailment you have is catching. Jane's not in either."

She tensed.

"Oh? So, uh, you haven't heard from him?"

"Not a damn peep. Have you?" He certainly sounded annoyed, and apparently had no clue that Jane had skipped the country again.

"No, sir. I'm actually a little worried. I might go over and check on him. I'd hate to think of him alone and sick."

"Well, if you do hear from him, tell him to get his ass back to work. He can rest here on that fancy new couch of his. And don't try to cover for him, Lisbon. I know how he likes to come and go as he pleases."

"Yes, sir."

"Take care of yourself, Agent Lisbon. Feel better."

"Thank you, sir."

She hung up. So, Abbot hadn't heard from Jane either. He didn't sound ready to call out the troops to investigate just yet, so Lisbon might have some time. It was Friday. If she was able to find Jane, maybe they could be back at work by Monday, Abbot none the wiser.

Lisbon was still angry, still worried, but at least now she had a plan. If he'd run away again, left her and the country for good, he could explain all that to her face. She'd be devastated, but at least she'd know the truth. At least she'd finally be out of the holding pattern she'd been in for the past twelve years, and she'd be able to move on with her life at last.

But if she could convince him to come home with her, well, she wasn't above trying that either. When he'd left her in the past, she hadn't gone after him. She'd been too angry, too full of pride, too afraid to put herself out there. Maybe that had been her mistake. Maybe, if she'd gone after him, things would have been different.

She loved him, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he loved her too. Red John was dead. There was nothing standing between them anymore. Perhaps that's what had frightened him away. He was just as scared as she was to make that leap from long, abiding friendship to deep, meaningful romance. But she didn't think she could bear another separation if she didn't at least try to do something about it this time.

She went to her bedroom and brought out her suitcase, unlocked her small desk drawer and found her passport. Jane had gone back to South America, which seemed to confirm that he was on the run again. This time, however, she planned to catch him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hola, senoras!" Jane announced to the women at the post office in the little village on the sea he'd called home for nearly two years.

"Senor Jane!" they both exclaimed, clearly happy and surprised to see

him.

"Are you moving back here?" Senora Quijada asked in Spanish.

"Si," he replied, his own Spanish sounding rusty after six months away. "I am looking for a room to rent."

From behind the counter, Senora Quijada pointed straight up. "There is an apartment open upstairs," she said, "but it will go quickly this time of year. Ask Hilario in the cafe. He's the landlord."

Jane smiled. "Gracias. Oh, and I brought you each a gift from the States," he said. From his bag he pulled out two Hermes scarves he'd picked up from an airport shop during his layover in Houston. They _oohed_ and _awwed_ gratifyingly.

"She has broken your heart," said the heavy set Senora Paz suddenly, tying the scarf around her head. "That is why you are back, eh, Senor?" Her eyes were bright with sympathy.

Jane was startled at first by her comments, but he hid it well. Of course he'd talked to them about Teresa, since he'd sent her a letter every week from their store. It had made him feel closer to Lisbon somehow, to share her a little with others. He gave her his most woebegone expression.

"Si, Senora, she did. I wanted to bring her back to this beautiful island, but she is a city girl and didn't appreciate the pretty picture I'd created when I wrote. She is very hard to please." It was difficult not to smile when he thought how very much the opposite was true of Teresa Lisbon.

"Besides," he continued, the sparkle returning to his eyes," when she heard me talk so much about the two lovely ladies at the post office, she became extremely jealous and kicked me out."

The ladies in question pshawed that bit of bull but blushed just the same at his charming flattery.

After enduring a few of their rather insulting imbrications of Lisbon's character, Jane left them with soundly kissed cheeks and a promise to see them later.

Next, Jane strolled toward Alfredo's bar, pausing in the middle of the square to take in his surroundings. Everyone in the village seemed busy today, festooning the square with colorful balloons and streamers. Soon it would be Carnival, a day to the islanders as joyous as Christmas, when the population of the village would double for the celebration.

Austin had just gone through a winter cold snap, and it felt good to feel the blazing sun on his cheeks in the middle of February—something he'd missed from this place. Not for the first time, he wished Lisbon was there to share it with him, and he grimaced at the sudden longing in his heart. He shook his head, then tried somewhat successfully to push her to the back of his mind.

"Senor Jane is back!" came the sound of youthful Spanish voices. The village children, who, when not in school, seemed to travel in a small pack, abruptly descended upon him, demanding to know where he'd been and what new tricks he could show them.

"No time for tricks today," he responded in their language. "But..." and he reached inside his miraculous, Hermione-like duffle and pulled out a bag of American chocolate bars. He distributed them with a grin and a ruffle of each dark head, the last child receiving his when Jane pulled it from behind the boy's ear. They laughed and ran away to enjoy their candy.

Alfredo was behind the bar, his back to Jane as he adjusted the radio. Jane sat on a barstool and with a grin, slammed his hand on the bar and demanded service in halting Spanish.

Alfredo whipped around in surprise, his face stretching into a wide smile upon seeing his old American friend.

"Senor Jane! You came back!"

They continued their conversation in Spanish.

"Si, Alfredo. No one in the States makes eggs and tea as well as you."

They chatted a bit, catching up on the village gossip, while Jane sipped a cold beer from the bottle.

"You left with the pretty American seniorita you met here at _my_ bar, didn't you?" he said proudly. "Did she come back with you?"

For the second time that day, Jane hung his head. "I'm afraid it didn't work out with her, amigo. She found out very quickly that the sea is my mistress, and she would not share me. So here I am, alone once more."

"Ay, but she is a very warm and wet mistress, eh Senor?" Alfredo grinned. "And she will never turn you away."

"Very true, Alfredo, very true."

Suddenly, Jane felt something tugging on his pant leg. He looked down and laughed in delight when a puppy (who looked suspiciously like old Hugo) looked up at him hopefully, wagging his tail so hard his entire body wriggled.

"Hugo was a real ladies' man," Alfredo explained proudly. "Just like his master."

Jane chuckled, bending to scratch the dog's ears. "So I see...Hey, that reminds me: I brought you a present."

"For me?"

Jane presented Alfredo with a dazzling white Stetson. "Straight from Texas," Jane proclaimed. "No woman can resist a cowboy."

"Gracias," he said in awe. He turned to the mirror behind the bar and tried on the cowboy hat, setting it at a rakish angle and grinning at his own reflection.

"Perfect," said Jane sincerely. "So tell me, Alfredo," he began tentatively, looking around to see if anyone might be listening, "you hear of any Americanos being murdered around here lately?"

If anyone would know about the deaths of American Federal agents, surely the town bartender would.

Alfredo tipped back his new hat and took a few steps toward Jane, leaning closer to him and talking softly. "No one talks about that, Senor—is hazardous to your health."

"Does everyone know who's responsible?" whispered Jane.

"Yes, but no one has the cajones to say his name."

"Castillo," said Jane bravely, and the barkeep drew in a sharp breath.

"Keep quiet, amigo. Forget you ever hear that name."

"Look, Alfredo, there will be lots of good old American dollars to go along with that American hat if you can tell me where he is."

Abbot had authorized Jane to spend money on bribes—up to a point—should he need to provide some incentive.

"I do not know, Senor," said Alfredo.

He was obviously lying, but Jane chose to back off, at least for now. Alfredo was likely a well of information, but he'd lost Hugo the First to an oily drug dealer; he wasn't keen to risk anymore of his meager belongings. Jane changed the subject to more pleasant topics, finished his beer, and got up to leave.

"How long are you staying this time, Senor?" Alfredo asked curiously.

"I do not know, Senor," Jane said with a slightly mocking grin. His eyes lit on Alfredo's new hat. "Ride 'em cowboy," he said in English.

Alfredo laughed, swirling his imaginary lasso in the air with a cry of: "Yee-haw!"

On Jane's way out of the bar, he passed the old barfly, Roger, still sitting where he'd left him six months before. He even wore the same shirt. Jane slapped the man on the shoulder.

"How you doing, Roger?"

The expatriate made and unintelligible reply, and Jane shook his head wistfully. _There but by the grace of God_...he thought, and for the first time since he remembered, Jane was truly thankful.

"Carry on," his said, and waved once more to Alfredo.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Jane secured his new digs with the sour-faced man ironically named Hilario (at three times what he'd paid for his last apartment), he deposited his duffle on the bare mattress and went back into the bright Caribbean sunlight. He was to meet Abbot's team at the only hotel in the village, a swanky resort which provided employment for half the population. He'd already done what he'd set out to do: establish that he had returned for an indefinite time, heartbroken and ready to continue his old habits. This being the advent of Carnival, it would not be unusual for an influx of tourists, so he would not draw too much attention from those who didn't know him from before.

In the lobby, he met his old pal, Franklin.

"Senor Jane! I am so happy to see you!"

"Gracias, Franklin. Do you have a minute to talk privately?"

"Of course!"

Though it was obviously busy in the hotel, Franklin, who was amazingly loyal (probably because Jane's quick thinking had once saved his life from ruffians, but that was a different story) led him to their old familiar meeting place—a little used stairwell.

"Before business, I have a gift!" exclaimed Jane, just as excited as Franklin was. He presented his young friend with an airport shopping bag. Franklin pulled out the latest copy of _Sports Illustrated_, the swimsuit edition. Franklin handled it like it was gold plated.

"Dios," he breathed reverently.

Jane had seen the kid's extensive collection of the Spanish version of the magazine. This American edition would likely hold a place of honor alongside the framed magazines in his small bungalow.

"Gracias, Senor," Franklin said. He looked up from his prize then, concern suddenly marring his pleasant features. "You promised me before you left that next time you came you would bring your beautiful Teresa. I do not see her, Senor. Is she coming later, for Carnival?"

"I'm afraid not. This is not a pleasure trip, you see. I'm here on a mission."

Franklin nodded in renewed awe of this amazing Americano. He was the only one on the island that knew Jane's real past, knew how he'd entrapped Danny Otero, knew he had left to go back to the states with the FBI. But Jane trusted him implicitly because the young man owed him his life, and he had sworn he would spend eternity trying to repay that debt.

"How can I help, Senor?"

"I need information on Cesar Castillo."

Similar to Alfredo's earlier reaction, Franklin gasped softly. "He is a far cry from small-time Danny Otero."

"Si, Franklin, he is. What can you tell me?"

Unlike Alfredo, the kid didn't hesitate. "I can tell you that he has my sister somewhere," he said, his voice going low with his anger and anguish.

"What? Your sister? How?"

"When Castillo first came to our village, he took one look at Flora and decided he wanted her. He promised her clothes and jewels and a way off this island. I could do nothing to stop her, and Castillo's gorilas insured that. My mother has wept every day since she left."

Jane remembered Franklin's beautiful little sister, who had also worked here at the resort as a maid. She was always complaining to Franklin how she wanted to get away from the village, see the world, and that the only way she could do that was to find a rich man to take care of her. Apparently, Castillo had fit the bill. With his father long dead, Franklin had been thrust into the role of head of his family, and Jane could see the pain at what he must perceive as a personal failure.

"So she didn't go with him against her will?"

"No, but it is tearing me up inside to think she is giving herself to that, that..._sapo_."

_Toad_ was the perfect description of the gun dealer. Jane shuddered inside when he thought of the weathered old face he'd seen in Abbot's file. The man must be in his late fifties. Flora was about the same age Charlotte would have been. Jane's felt his heart skip a beat.

"She called my mother yesterday, said Castillo was bringing her into the village for Carnival in two days, and that she would come by for a visit."

This was excellent news, and maybe it would be easier than he had thought. Only an hour on the island, and Jane had practically found the man.

_One hour closer to being home with Teresa._

He couldn't wait to tell Abbot's team of this stroke of luck.

"Perhaps we can help each other, my friend," said Jane, putting his arm about the younger man's shoulders. "Tell me all that you know..."

**A/N: So, back to waterbaby it goes. I'm sure she'll be able to make something of the mess I left her. Thanks for reading! Can't wait to hear what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Once again, Donna and I are thrilled by the positive response to this story. It's always tough to follow one of her instalments, but I've done my best. Also, I don't speak a word of Spanish so any you find in here is courtesy of Google Translate. Apologies in advance to any Spanish speakers for butchering your language.**

**On that note, please read and enjoy!**

**Chapter 3 **

The resort looked slightly out of place on the island, he thought. Modern and luxurious, it was a haven for the Western visitors who wanted to sample island life, but not _too_ much. The high steel fences and complicated alarm system rigged up to the doors further emphasised the 'us and them' idea, keeping the wealthy tourists safely segregated from the inhabitants of the island, so they might fritter away their thousands in relative peace. The resort featured several bars, restaurants, a small casino, and an array of shops ranging from local merchandise to high-end designer shoes and bags, so there was no need for the guests to leave it all if they so chose. The whole place seemed to reek of commercialism and a sense of entitlement, which was why he'd foregone the hotel on his first visit here in favour of his humble lodgings in the village; he'd had enough of that back home.

It came as no surprise to him that Abbot's team had elected to stay here though, for their mission had been intended as a short one. They'd been sent out here with the expectation that collaring their arms dealer would take a matter of weeks. Abbot had told him they'd been so sure of their success that they hadn't even bothered to unpack for the first few days, thinking they would be home before the week was out. But Castillo had turned out to be far cleverer than intelligence had suggested, and now, four months on and no closer to an arrest, they were running out of ideas.

"That's where you come in, Patrick," Abbot had told him over the phone, minutes before he boarded the plane. "When everyone else hits a brick wall, you find a way to tear it down, and that's what they need." The senior agent promised to make arrangements for Jane to meet with the team while he was in the air so they could get to work as soon as possible. He'd been glad about that. The sooner they got this done, the sooner he could get back. He surmised that he'd probably receive a punch in the nose from Lisbon for every day he'd been gone. So far, he was up to two, and he wasn't keen to make it double digits.

He gave the name at reception that Abbot had provided and was immediately taken to a villa on the edge of the resort, tucked away behind foliage in such a way that it could be easily missed if you didn't know it was there. A tall, reed-thin agent received him at the door.

"So you're the psychic, huh?" he said, surveying Jane disdainfully through thick, black glasses.

Immediately, Jane knew that he and this agent were not going to get to get along. The thought cheered him somewhat. It was always nice to meet new people to mess with, but there was one thing that needed to be cleared up before they went any further.

"There's no such thing as psychics." He and the agent held each other's gaze for a moment and a grim understanding passed between them. These were two people prone to dislike everything about each other, forced into a situation they both resented. This would not be a comfortable working relationship for either of them and that was fine with Jane. He wasn't here to make friends.

He pushed past his ungracious host. The door opened on to the living room, which looked like an offshoot of an FBI bullpen with laptops and other gadgets on every available surface. Against the back wall were two whiteboards on which surveillance photos of Castillo had been tacked up, alongside handwritten notes of his movements. In a few of them, Jane recognised the slight figure of Flora, clutching the gun dealer's arm. He could also tell by the inch of dust covering everything, that housekeeping had not been into this villa for some time, and wondered to himself just how much this little excursion was costing the Bureau.

The team itself, once comprising fourteen members, had dwindled down to six. This was due not only to the fatalities, Abbot had said, but to members gradually being reassigned back to America as the months wore on with no progress, and the mood in the room was one of frustration and a growing hopelessness. Jane also noticed a group of photographs carefully laid out on a coffee table in the right side of the room, a silent vigil to their five fallen comrades.

The door was shut firmly and the tall agent strode into the middle of the room. The eyes of his colleagues, three men and two women, followed him, leading Jane to believe he must be the leader. Abbot had provided a file about the team for him to read on the plane over but he hadn't so much as opened it, preferring to draw his own conclusions.

Introductions were made. Jane took note of the names as he heard them, but as he intended to spend little time here, wasn't all that concerned with remembering them. He made an exception, however, for Jack Cailly, his unwelcoming committee, as he would undoubtedly be the one he'd have to butt heads with in order to get things done.

"Abbot seems to feel that you can get into Castillo's fortress without getting your head blown off," said Cailly, when his colleagues had returned to work. "Personally, I'll believe it when I see it. We've been working to infiltrate his crew for months; they can smell cop a mile away."

"Lucky I'm not a cop then."

A muscle in Cailly's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead he opened the drawer of a desk and produced a pistol identical to the one Jane had left back in Texas. He put it down in front of Jane.

"Know how to use one of these?"

Jane wondered if Jack Cailly had read _his_ file. Surely Abbot must have passed it along to him when he'd arranged for him to come. He'd never seen his FBI file, but was sure it would make for interesting reading. He had after all, killed four men in total, three of them in cold blood, and though he didn't think Red John made the grade as a human being in any sense, the law had disagreed.

"I'll figure it out." Of course, his preferred secret weapon had dark hair, green eyes and a deadly aim, but as he couldn't have her right now, the gun would do.

Cailly crooked an eyebrow, and Jane felt as though he had passed some kind of test. Perhaps the agent had expected him to shy away from the weapon, as he would once have done, but that time was long over. A person who made as many enemies as he had in life had to get used to watching his own back, by any means necessary.

"Before we get started, we've got Abbot on the video link," he said, gesturing toward yet another computer set up towards the back of the room. "He wants to talk to you."

Digital image or not, Jane found that in this case, distance did _not_ make the heart grow fonder, as he sat down at the computer. The sight of Abbot's face made him no less furious today then it had two days ago when he'd blackmailed him into this farce.

"What do you want, Abbot?" he growled under his breath.

Abbot chuckled, the sound distorted a little by the computer speakers.

"That's no way to speak to your boss, Patrick," he said.

"And what are you going to do about it? Send me miles away on a dangerous mission to further your own career goals?"

Abbot ignored this. "I just got off the phone with Agent Lisbon," he said. "Apparently she's sick."

That didn't sound like Lisbon. She very rarely got sick at all; as he knew she took care to eat well and exercise to keep illness at bay. On the occasion that she had fallen victim to something however, it had never stopped her from coming in to work. He could vividly remember her dragging herself into the CBI one day, almost delirious with fever. Try though he might, he hadn't been able to convince her to go home, and was almost on the point of hypnotising her before Cho had wisely put his foot down. He'd told Lisbon bluntly that she was doing nobody any favours by being in the office, and that if anything; her presence was hindering the team from their work. Her second-in-command had then instructed Jane to take her home, and personally escorted them both to the car to make sure.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"So was I," said Abbot. "She looked just fine to me the other day at the progress meeting. Convenient that this illness should arise right after I sent you over there, don't you think?"

"I didn't tell her anything," Jane snapped. He'd considered it; leaving a note or a coded message just to let her know he was all right, but had decided against it. Abbot would be looking for signs of betrayal, and he knew Lisbon too well to be completely confident that she wouldn't give something away by accident. She was too virtuous for her own good sometimes. He knew Abbot was still stinging over the circumstances in which he had joined the FBI; knew the man would simply love to feel like he was in control again by taking away the one person who mattered the most to him. He wouldn't risk it.

"She's worried about you," Abbot went on. "She's asking questions."

"I told you she would." Jane couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he said it. "Just wait until you catch a nice, juicy murder and that ought to distract her for a while." She'd still worry, of course, but that super work ethic would kick in soon enough and without him there to speed things along, she'd hopefully be occupied until he returned.

God, he missed her already.

Abbot seemed satisfied with the answer and ended the call, at which point Cailly herded him over to the rest of the team for a briefing. He listened to just enough to realise how much Cailly enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice before tuning him out. Instead, he found his mind wandering back to Lisbon. She'd be furious with him, that was for sure, but he hoped with all his heart that she'd wait for him, just this one last time.

* * *

Trust Jane to pick the most inconvenient, out-of-the-way place to run off to. There was only one flight a day to Caracas and it was the first flight out at six in the morning. She'd had to haul herself out of bed at two to make it to the airport in time for check-in.

She clutched her coffee cup in two hands, willing herself to wake up. She'd have to hit the ground running when she arrived, tracking him down would not be easy. He'd only ever spoken in vague terms about his time in South America with no specifics about people or places or anything else. She hadn't told anybody where she was going, not even Cho, though he of all people would have understood. She couldn't bear people whom she liked and respected knowing that she was dashing out of the country like a lovesick fool after a man who clearly didn't want to be found. After all, there was every chance that she would be returning alone.

A few seats away, a young couple were murmuring to one another, hands entwined together on the armrest. She spotted the brand new wedding rings as they caught the ceiling lights. Newlyweds, off on a romantic honeymoon, she guessed. They looked blissful.

She didn't think she'd ever been as happy as they looked right now, except perhaps the years of her childhood before her mother had passed. It had been the turning point in her life, just as Jane's family's death had been the turning point in his. Before they'd met, she didn't remember laughing or smiling much, just putting one foot in front of the other, moving constantly forward to be the best cop she could be.

Ironically, it had also been that insatiable drive of hers that made the top brass promote her ahead of Agent Hannigan, so when Patrick Jane walked into the CBI, hers was the hand he shook, and things were set in motion that would govern the rest of their lives. Things would have been so different if she hadn't got the promotion. Hannigan would never have accepted Jane on the team as easily as she, and certainly wouldn't have taken the lengths to protect him like she had. Jane would have been out of law enforcement long ago.

What would her life be if Jane had not been in it? People used to say that she would have been next in line for Bertram's job, had she not thrown her lot in with Jane. Would she too, have become a puppet of the Blake Association like her former boss had done?

But there was no point dwelling on things she couldn't change. By fate or chance, she _did_ take that promotion, and she_ did_ meet the man who would go on to change her life. And she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

She sighed. Being in love with someone like Jane was incredibly hard work. His mind went to planes that nobody else's even considered, and he said and did things sometimes that would make the average person squirm. People were irresistibly drawn to him, but at the same time he was one of the most solitary people she'd ever known. He was a hundred different things all at once, and just when she'd thought she had him figured out, something happened that made her question whether she really knew him at all.

Her cell phone rang and the canoodling couple looked over to see what was disturbing their romantic little bubble. Their dirty looks so annoyed her that she deliberately fumbled the phone in her fingers so as to inconvenience them for a few extra seconds. It was great that love was working out so well for _them_, but they didn't need to shove it in her face.

"Hey, boss, I just got done looking through Jane's financials." Lisbon could hear a baby cooing in the background and imagined her former agent sitting on the couch with the phone to her ear and her daughter on her lap.

"And?"

The idea had come to her last night after her phone call to Abbot. If Jane had been planning on taking a trip, surely he would have needed money to fund it. If he'd withdrawn any large sums of money from his accounts in the past few days or made any unusual purchases, it might give her a clue as to what he was up to. She felt a little bad about abusing his privacy like this, but once again, he had forced her hand.

"Nothing," said Van Pelt, and she felt herself deflate a little. "His accounts haven't been touched and it looks like he barely uses his credit card at all."

Another dead end. Jane was clearly taking meticulous care about covering his tracks.

"What was the last charge? The plane ticket?" At least that way she could make doubly sure she was going to the right place.

She heard the rustling sound of shuffling paper before Van Pelt answered. "Nope. Thirty dollar charge at some Italian restaurant."

Lisbon swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then how the hell did he pay for it?" she asked. "Last minute air tickets are expensive and I know he doesn't have that kind of money lying around in his trailer."

Van Pelt snorted. "He lives in a trailer, now? Seriously?"

"It's a long story." One she didn't feel like repeating right now.

"Well, you got me how he managed it, boss," said Van Pelt resignedly. "But I've come to believe anything of Jane. He might have just flirted with the ticket agent until she let him ride for free, or stowed away in the baggage area. He might have even printed up a fake ticket at the office and tricked his way on."

Lisbon chuckled. "He's not you, Grace. He barely knows how to turn_ on_ a computer, let alone use complicated graphics software."

"True. But he obviously conned somebody into letting him onto that plane."

"Unless someone bought the ticket for him." In their vast experience of Jane and his outlandish antics, they'd overlooked the simplest explanation of them all. "Someone paid for him to take that flight. It's the only thing that makes sense."

There was a brief silence from the other woman.

"Grace? You still there?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking, chasing Jane all over the globe, it's just like old times, isn't it?" She could almost hear the smile in Van Pelt's voice. "Wayne and I will start digging."

A bored woman's voice came over the PA system; Lisbon's flight was being called. She said a quick goodbye to Van Pelt and then turned off her phone, ready for the flight.

The young lovers watched her as she slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder and stood up. They were still holding hands. Seeing them, her irritation with them ebbed away. After all, it wasn't their fault that she'd had the bad judgement to fall in love with a man one part genius, and two parts lunatic, and wasn't the whole reason she was going on this wild Jane chase to hopefully get a piece of what they had?

She smiled at them, pleased that she hadn't needed to force it. "I hope you enjoy your honeymoon," she said.

* * *

It was a relief for Jane to escape back to the village again. It was fuller than it had been this morning when he'd left; the daily flight in had deposited more tourists in town for Carnival. He was glad he hadn't wasted time finding somewhere to stay.

"Senor Jane!" The two post office ladies had caught sight of him wandering across the square and waved frantically for him to join them. He noticed that each was still wearing her new scarf, despite the simmering heat.

"Hola, senoras!" he greeted them, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have had a marvellous idea," exclaimed Senora Paz, speaking so fast in her excitement that with his comparatively limited Spanish, he struggled to understand her. "To chase away thoughts of that devil woman of yours." Beside her, her friend nodded emphatically.

"You are too handsome and charming, Senor Jane, to bother with the likes of her," she agreed. She called out something in Spanish over her shoulder and a young girl appeared at her side. She had chocolate brown eyes, olive skin and looked barely into her mid-twenties. The young woman smiled at him shyly as Senora Paz rushed forward and put a proud arm around her.

"My niece, Eva," she said. "She too has been treated badly by one she loves. Perhaps you could take her for a drink?"

As three pairs of eyes turned hopefully towards him, Jane had to bite back the urge to laugh. As though this trip wasn't busy enough, now he was adding blind dates into the mix too? He was touched at the concern of his old friends for him, but the last thing he needed at the moment was another complication.

He addressed himself in halting Spanish to Eva. "Nothing would make me happier than to spend some time with a beautiful senorita such as yourself, but my lady in America, she hurt me so much that I am not yet ready." He forced himself not to cringe at this blatant lie, if anything the opposite was true when it came to himself and Lisbon.

Eva looked disappointed, but unsurprised. "I understand Senor," she said, and then in a lower voice so the older women wouldn't hear. "I did not think this was a good idea, but my aunt, she is very persistent, and she has always spoken most highly of you."

"Your aunt exaggerates," he said, and she giggled.

"Si, senor, she has been known to do that." Her eyes travelled across his face. "In this case however, she has not done you justice."

"Gracias," he thanked her politely.

She was a pretty girl, he thought, with her sweet smile and delicate features. Had circumstances been different, he might well have been interested, but as it was, there was only one woman for him. She scribbled a phone number on the back of an old envelope. "If you should change your mind," she said, pressing it into his hand. She then said something in rapid Spanish to her aunt and departed.

Senora Paz watched her go, shaking her head.

"It pains me to see the damage that American _perra _has done to you, Senor. She had best hope for her own sake that she never walks into my shop."

Jane put Eva's telephone number into his pants pocket. "Believe me ladies, when I tell you that will never happen." He bade them farewell and took his leave. He'd arranged to meet up with Franklin at Alfredo's bar, as Abbot's team had asked him to get more information about Castillo. He himself was hoping something could be arranged that might allow him to observe the man; learn his habits and behaviours ready for when he would eventually make contact.

Franklin was waiting for him when he arrived and had a bottle of beer ready on the bar. Alfredo doffed his brand-new Stetson as Jane entered. The establishment was quiet, with only two other patrons, for which he was glad. All the better not to be eavesdropped on.

"Tell me more about Castillo," he requested.

Franklin glanced over his shoulder, checking the bartender was well out of earshot. "There isn't that much else to tell you Senor," he said, regretfully. "The only ones who really know anything about him are the other men in his crew, and they don't go blabbing about him to the rest of the village."

"And I suppose once you're in with him, there's no resignations."

Franklin gave a solemn nod. "There's only one way to get out of Castillo's crew, and it doesn't leave people in the best shape for talking."

Jane had expected this answer, but still couldn't help the feeling of unease that swept over him at his young friend's words. Sure, he'd done this kind of thing many times before, but at least back then he'd had backup that he knew and trusted. Here, he had to put all his faith in Abbot's judgement in choosing his fellow team members, and trust that they would have his back if he needed them to. It was a big ask.

"Franklin," he lowered his voice as Alfredo swept past them, collecting empty glasses that stood along the bar. "I need to see exactly who I'm dealing with. Is there somewhere I can go where I might run into him?"

Franklin drew in a sharp breath. "Nobody with any sense would ever intentionally put himself in the same room with him, Senor."

"Unfortunately, I don't have much choice. But I think you might be able help me. You said he's bringing your sister back to town for Carnival. No doubt he will bring her to your home."

Muscles tightened in Franklin's face and he drew himself up to his full height. "It will be a cold day in hell before that _sapo_ enters my home, Senor. He and his dogs will gun me down on the threshold before I allow him admittance into my house."

The boy was so young, but he spoke emphatically, and Jane had no doubt that he meant every word he'd said. He recognised the same emotions in Franklin that he himself had been battling for so long. Anger. Guilt. Fear. Both of them had people they loved ripped from them in a terrible way. Franklin's situation was in a way, even worse than his had been; Flora had left voluntarily. She had consciously decided that a life on the arm of a dangerous criminal was preferable to the home and family that had raised her. It was an utter rejection of the life that Franklin had tried to provide for her in his father's stead. Even if by some miracle, she somehow detached herself from Castillo, he thought the rift between brother and sister would take a long time to heal.

"He doesn't have to," he reassured his young friend. "With your permission, I'll be somewhere nearby when he drops off your sister, and follow him to wherever he goes."

"And then what?"

"Then I'll just have to take it from there." He tried to inject more confidence into his voice than he truly felt. If Lisbon were here, she'd have called him out on that bullshit faster than blinking. Fortunately, Franklin seemed convinced.

"If you can pull this off, Senor," he said. "If you can bring my sister back home, I will be eternally in your debt, even more so that I am already."

Jane took a sip of his beer to avoid answering. Bringing back Flora would certainly be a bonus, and if he could find a way to do it, he would, but his first priority was to get himself through this alive. He too, had someone he loved waiting for him back home. Or at least, he hoped he still would, by the time this was over.

* * *

Lisbon hated air travel. She hated the uncomfortable seats, the overcrowding, the bad food, the worse coffee, and the way-too-smiley-to-be-genuine flight attendants. Thanks to her last-minute booking, she'd ended up sandwiched in a seat between a young backpacker who clearly hadn't showered in a while, and an elderly woman in the window seat who'd forced them all to get up multiple times so she could visit the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry, dear," she croaked, unclipping her seatbelt and getting to her feet yet again. "I'm just not built for all this sitting about, and the system just doesn't work as well as it used to." She patted her stomach with a small laugh.

"No problem, ma'am," Lisbon said, through gritted teeth, nudging her other seatmate hard with her foot to get him to move as well. The young man scowled at her, rolling his eyes.

"Again?" he complained, in a strong Australian accent. "This woman must have a bladder the size of a grape."

Lisbon bit back the rejoinder she longed to throw at him. Making enemies wouldn't make the flight go any faster, and devoid of her gun; she was deprived of her usual methods of making irritating people shut up. Her badge was with her in her wallet of course, but she knew that if she used it, there would be no chance of keeping Abbot in the dark about what she was doing. Sooner or later it would get back to him, and then she'd be forced to answer questions about using her official identification on non-official business; further hassles that she could do without.

It had been a wrench for her to leave her weapon behind. She'd felt almost naked leaving her apartment without it, but she'd decided not to announce herself as a cop unless it was absolutely necessary; and as far as she knew, most tourists didn't walk around with sidearms. It had been a tough call, but in the end, the desire for secrecy won out by the smallest of margins.

The elderly woman shuffled off down the aisle toward the bathroom, and Lisbon tactfully moved a few steps away from her Aussie counterpart, grateful at least for the break from his pungent odour.

A flight attendant was approaching down the aisle, pushing the drinks cart ahead of her, stopping here and there to distribute beverages to the other passengers. Lisbon watched her pour out a cup of coffee and hand it to a woman across the aisle. God she could use a coffee right now, a real one, tall and piping hot like Jane brought her in the mornings sometimes. He always seemed to inherently know when she really needed one and delivered it to her desk. She'd never actually _seen_ him do it, but who else knew exactly how she liked it?

Oh, how she hoped he would come home, when she found him. She'd tried not to think about it too much, but there was always the faint possibility that he might not want to come back with her. Might even be angry with her for tailing him to his fortress of solitude. But if he _hadn'_t gone of his own free will, if someone had taken him from her by force, she'd never forgive herself if she didn't try.

Jane disappearing off the face of the earth was nothing new, but at least this time she wouldn't be sitting around like a bad storybook heroine waiting for her true love to return. She'd drag him back by those golden curls if she had to; but she wouldn't lose him again. He'd have to look her in the eye and tell her straight; he didn't want her, and he wasn't coming back.

The flight attendant paused by their row of seats, her pasted-on smile striking Lisbon as being just a little creepy. She proffered the coffeepot, but Lisbon couldn't quite bring herself to ask for a cup of the awful-looking brew. She settled for orange juice instead, and as the woman bent to get it, she noticed the teabags neatly lined up on the top of the cart. It made her think of Jane, and as the woman straightened up, an idea came to her. If there was only a single flight each day to Caracas, it was possible that he had been on this very plane two days ago. If he was, the attendant was bound to remember, he had a face that women seldom forgot.

She riffled through her wallet for the only picture of Jane she'd been able to find in a hurry, a candid snapshot of the two of them taken a few years back when a newspaper had run a story about the SCU. Jane had flatly refused to pose for an official photograph for the journalist, so she'd been forced to take a picture of them waiting at the coffee cart to accompany the story. Lisbon would never tell him so, but she secretly liked this picture. They were standing next to each other, smiling at some long-forgotten joke. They looked content. They looked like partners. This particular copy lived in a dresser drawer in her bedroom; she didn't think she could handle his ridicule if he ever knew she still had it.

It was a long shot to be sure, but she flashed it at the flight attendant anyway, and when the young woman blushed, knew her instincts had been true.

"Oh sure, he flew with us just the other day. I'll tell you, it's not every day I get the pleasure of waiting on a man like that." She rolled her eyes in the direction of the backpacker, crinkling her nose. "You must be the wife, then?" she asked Lisbon chattily, handing over her juice.

"The what?" she replied, sharply, and the flight attendant started.

"Sorry ma'am, I just assumed. You're asking questions about him, and I noticed he had a wedding ring on." Her obvious disappointment in this fact made her sigh. "Believe me, if he'd been single, I'd have snapped him right up then and there."

"Well, he isn't." Lisbon's cold tone made the flight attendant's smile finally disappear from her face. But as keen as she was for this interview to be over, she still had once last question to ask.

"Did he happen to say where he was going?"

* * *

Back in his hired room, the long days and the insomnia had finally started to catch up with Jane. He looked out the window at the strings of coloured lights adorning the town square, and the crowds of people milling around. There was a distinct feeling of excitement in the air as locals and tourists of every nationality chattered and laughed, amongst soft strains of music.

It was nice to bear witness to something so joyful for a change, rather than murder and corruption and darkness. If he weren't so tired, he'd go and join the revellers, perhaps under the influence of alcohol they might be more inclined to talk about Castillo and his crew. But he'd been awake now for over thirty-six hours and even he had a breaking point.

The burner cell in his pocket suddenly rang, shattering the peaceful silence. The caller turned out to be Agent Cailly, wanting to know if he'd made any progress on the case. He confirmed that he had, but didn't give details. A hothead like him would rush in too fast and possibly find the blood of another agent on his hands. Like so many other detectives, Cailly lacked the patience necessary to do the job right.

He promised Cailly a full update the following day and then hung up the phone. It was only after he'd stowed it back in his bag that he noticed the square outside had fallen silent. Buzzing with life only minutes earlier, it had taken on an almost unnatural quiet. The figures of people were still visible in the dimming light but they were immobile, save for one small group.

Four people were wending their way through the crowd, and as they passed under a flickering lamp, their faces were thrown into sharp relief. Cesar Castillo himself stood before him, Flora beside him, and flanked by two hulking men that had to be members of his crew.

Flora was taller than Jane remembered her, and diamonds glittered at her earlobes and neck. Clearly, her patron was keeping her well supplied with the fabulous jewels and clothes he had promised.

"What happened to the music?" Castillo demanded in Spanish, looking around the square. He had a loud, commanding voice for a man so short and nobody seemed to dare to meet his eye. "Don't stop the celebration on my account."

The crowd parted as he strode forward, everyone apparently very keen to give him a wide berth.

"This is a sad little town," he said to Flora. "The best thing I ever did was get you out of here." Then, he turned again to the watching crowd. "Don't you all know that it's rude to eavesdrop?" he snarled at them and they visibly recoiled. "Music!"

His imperious tone saw the musicians immediately take up their instruments again, but as the music rang out, the crowd swiftly withdrew into houses, leaving the square empty but for the four of them.

"_Cobardes_" Castillo hissed under his breath, before turning to his henchmen. "Bring the car around," he said. "We'll return in the morning. Flora wants to visit her family, don't you, _cariño_?" he crooned. Flora nodded in response, but seemed to be either unable or unwilling to speak.

Castillo's eyes narrowed. "I asked you a question," he hissed at her, and even from a height, Jane saw her recoil. "Didn't your dog of a mother ever teach you to answer when you're spoken to?"

"Si, my dear," Flora answered him, quietly. "She did."

"Well you would do well to remember it. Perhaps this will jog your memory."

In the silent square, the slap of Castillo's hand hitting Flora's cheek echoed like a gunshot. She clutched her face, whimpering in pain, but didn't dare cry out, possibly for fear of being struck again.

Jane could feel the weight of the gun at his side, and resisted the temptation to put a bullet between the arm's dealer's eyes here and now. He knew full well that if Castillo were killed, someone else in the crew would simply ascend to take his place. It would achieve little. Besides, it was dark, wind was rolling in from the ocean, and both Castillo's men were carrying semiautomatic weapons. They'd spray his apartment with bullets within seconds. Regretfully, he moved his hand away from his holster. He was no sharpshooter, after all; he might hit Flora, and Franklin would never forgive him.

Jane remembered his friend's sister as a vivacious young woman, full of life, and to see her like this, being treated like trash by Cesar Castillo gave him a pang of regret. He could only imagine how Franklin must feel. But as much as he would like to rescue her from the criminal's clutches right now, common sense told him he must wait. He would only get one chance at this. He had to do it right.

He rose early the next morning, wanting to be in position by Franklin's house in plenty of time for his quarry's arrival. Alfredo's wasn't open yet, so he couldn't have eggs, but the cacophony of voices that reached his ears as he neared the post office told him that the_ senoras_ were already hard at work. He waved to them politely as he passed by. In seeing him, Senora Paz's eyes lit up and she pulled Eva, whom he hadn't noticed before, into greater prominence.

In a pretty white dress that she'd no doubt been wrestled into by her aunt, Eva waved back at him. In the background, he could hear the two _senoras_ urging her in Spanish to stand up straight, and smile for him. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl, who was flushing in embarrassment by their behaviour.

"Buenos dias, ladies," he greeted them all, but didn't break his stride; in the hope they would let him proceed uninterrupted.

No such luck. Senora Paz prodded her niece in the back with her finger, causing her to yelp with pain. She cast a disdainful look at her aunt, before addressing him. "Where are you off to this morning, _senor_?" she asked.

"Just a stroll around the island," said Jane evasively. "I've missed the scenery since I've been back in America."

"Surely you would like some company, senor?" Senora Paz nudged her niece forward with such force that she stumbled. "Eva would love to help you get to know the island again. She knows where to find all the most _secluded_ parts." On the penultimate word, her eyes twinkled mischievously, and Jane had no doubt she was imagining the two of them making a romantic connection in those private island places and perhaps was already planning the dress she would make for Eva to wear at the wedding. By contrast, Eva looked mortified by the very suggestion.

"_Tía!"_ she shrieked. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Perhaps another time," Jane said gently, putting an end to the argument, and Eva looked relieved. "Today, I wish to be alone with my thoughts."

He left the three women squabbling amongst each other and continued on his way. Perhaps if he had time, he could go and find those secluded places before he left, and then maybe one day when she had finished hating his guts, he could take Lisbon there. He could just picture it now, a little cove far away from prying eyes, sparkling water, and her sun-warmed skin against his as they made love on the sand. It was nice to think about, even if it probably wouldn't happen.

The directions he'd been provided by Franklin saw him reach the house twenty minutes later, and he concealed himself in some shrubbery a little way from the front door.

He waited there for what seemed like an age before a shiny black limousine came trundling the street towards him. This had to be Castillo; nobody else on this island would bother to travel in such an ostentatious fashion. Sure enough, when the vehicle had parked neatly in front of the house, the driver got out and rushed to open the passenger door, out of which Castillo stepped, Flora at his side.

She had an angry red mark on her cheek from where he'd slapped her the night before, and in the light of day, Jane also noticed cuts and bruises on her skin, some fresh, some a few days old. Clearly, it had not been the first incident.

The door to the house opened, and Franklin appeared on the threshold. His eyes flicked around the area. Jane had told he would be here and he could only presume he was looking for him, despite having been expressly told not to do so. Castillo would become suspicious. After a moment though, Franklin's eyes stopped wandering and instead widened in horror at the sight of his sister, and he cursed Castillo in Spanish. The arms dealer simply smirked, and gave Flora a careless shove in his direction. She fell silently into her brother's arms, who threw Castillo a look of pure loathing.

"I'll be back for her in an hour," said Castillo. "See that she doesn't stray."

Franklin, with murder in his eyes, slammed the door in the older man's face.

Castillo turned and made his way back to the car. The two henchmen from last night unfolded themselves from the back seat and came to meet him, once again armed to the teeth.

"Stand guard at the door," he said to the taller of the two. "If that brother of hers tries any funny business, see to it that he doesn't do it again." The henchman nodded once, and went to do his bidding.

Castillo then beckoned to his other man, shorter than the first, but sturdily built, and no less formidable. "Come with me." The two of them then stepped back into the car, which peeled out slowly and began to drive away.

Silently, Jane removed himself from the bushes, careful not to draw the eye of the guard at the door and followed the limousine's tyre tracks, hoping it would lead him to Castillo's stronghold. He didn't expect to catch up with the car and so was surprised when he found it parked at the side of the road. It looked empty, and the surrounding vegetation looked as though it had been recently trampled. Jane supposed it was probably buried deep in the jungle, far away from the police, where illegal business dealings could be done in secret.

A single sound behind him made him stop in his tracks; the unmistakeable sound of a rifle being cocked. He spun around to find Castillo standing almost directly behind, cronie at his side, pointing his weapon at Jane's head.

He sighed inwardly, as he slowly raised his hands. He had been hoping to avoid this.

"I thought so," said Castillo, with a smug smile. "When are you Americanos going to learn? I didn't get to where I am today without knowing when I'm being watched."

He surveyed Jane carefully. "I don't recognise you. A new recruit for the gallant Agent Cailly's task force? Well, my apologies Senor, but I fear you have wasted your time."

He glanced sideways at his henchman.

"Shoot him."

**A/N Donna and I are really quite mean to each other aren't we? Always leaving each other with these nasty cliffhangers. But I have complete faith she'll come up with something fantastic.**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Waterbaby and I continue to be pleased that you are enjoying this fic! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews, for all of our chapters. I hope you like my instalment.

**Chapter 4**

Lisbon stepped off the Casa al Paradiso Resort shuttle bus into the sticky, tropical air. She looked around, noting absently how beautiful everything was, how bright and green compared to the bare and brown Texas winter she had left behind. But the scenery wasn't enough to keep her interest; all she could think about was finding Jane.

She hadn't yet secured a room in the small island's only hotel, but she'd hopped the shuttle from the airport anyway, telling a white lie to the driver that she was a guest at the resort. When she slipped him a few bills, he didn't question her further. At the front desk of the busy lobby, she got the bad news.

"I am sorry, Senorita, but we are completely booked. It is Carnival, you see..."

"Nothing at all?" she asked, a headache coming on from jet lag and the desire to get on with her quest.

"Well..." he said, noting her simple jeans and t-shirt doubtfully. "We did have a cancellation of the El Presidente suite just an hour ago. But it is the most expensive room on the resort."

"How much?" she asked, her tone laced with dread.

The amount actually made her jaw drop. "And there are no other hotels on this island? No private inns? Hostels? Homeless shelters?"

The desk clerk laughed. He loved Americans and their sarcasm.

"All booked, last I heard."

Lisbon didn't like the idea of having nowhere to sleep in a strange country, especially one rumored to harbor drug dealers and gun runners-she'd seen the FBI reports. She sighed, then pulled Jane's picture out of her purse. Maybe, if he was staying here, she could bunk with him. Hell, after she killed him, she could have _his _room.

"Look, I have a friend who said he might be here too. Maybe he would share his room with me. Is this man staying here? His name is Patrick Jane."

The clerk frowned. He was new to this resort, new to this island.

"He does look familiar..." He typed Jane's name into the computer.

"No, Senorita, we have no one registered here by that name."

"How about Sherman Holmes?" she asked with a smirk.

The clerk checked again. "No, Senorita."

She held up Jane's picture again."But you've seen this man here? Recently?"

"Si. He was here yesterday, I believe."

"Dammit," she muttered.

"Senorita?"

With great reluctance, she handed over her credit card.

"I'll take El Presidente," she said in resignation.

_What the hell?_ she thought. One night was only the equivalent of a down payment on that new Mustang she'd been eyeing. If things went as she'd hoped, she and Jane would be on the next flight out of here anyway. And she'd make him pay back every cent she spent on this trip.

After she'd been given the key card for her room, (refusing help of a bellboy to show her to the suite and lug her small carry-on bag) she moved to the elevator. A young man wearing a salmon-colored resort shirt and a name badge identifying him as Franklin, approached her casually. But Lisbon noted the faint intensity in his brown eyes, and all her instincts went on alert. Her hand slid automatically to where her gun was not, and once again she felt distinctly naked.

"Senorita," he said. "Pardon me, but may I have a word please?"

She stepped out of the way of the honeymooners from the plane and followed Franklin curiously to an alcove just off the lobby.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me, but you are Teresa Lisbon, si?"

Her eyes narrowed."Yeah. How do you know my name?"

He blushed sheepishly. "I overheard Carlos checking you in. You don't know how happy I am to finally meet the great Santa Teresa!"

"What?" She was dumbfounded.

"Senor Jane, he has talked about you many times with much admiration. You are even more beautiful than he described! Oh, he will be so glad you are here!"

_He said I was beautiful?_

Lisbon quickly collected herself. Of course, _the boy from the hotel_. In his many letters, Jane had been careful not to name anyone specifically on the island, but he had described his interactions with the locals in fond terms, identifying them only by how he knew them, or by their occupation. _The ladies from the post office. The tailor. The priest. The bartender_. _The ex-patriot. _ Even: _the dog._

"Do you know where Jane is?" she asked, heart pounding.

Franklin's eyes grew troubled. "I have not seen him in some time, Senorita. I am very worried."

Whatever it was that had brought Jane back here, she wasn't surprised to discover he was already in trouble. She wondered how he had survived without her for two years.

"What has he done?" she asked.

"My sister, Flora. He is trying to get her back for me."

Franklin told her about Cesar Castillo, how he was convinced his sister was being held against her will now, though she went of her own accord at first. He told her how Jane was going to spy on Castillo when he dropped off Flora for her visit home, then attempt to follow him back to his hideout. Jane had bound Franklin to secrecy regarding what he was really doing on the island, how it was an undercover mission for the FBI. And since Lisbon hadn't led on that she knew about Castillo, Franklin loyally kept mum.

"So, he went up against an arms dealer? Alone?"

_Why does this surprise me?_

"I'm not sure, Senorita, but it appears so. Neither he nor Castillo were in the limousine when it came to fetch Flora, and he has not come to tell me if he found Castillo's home. I did not see him at my home, so he must have hidden himself very well. Senor Jane, he is very resourceful. He can get out of anything."

Franklin was under the spell of blind hero worship, apparently. Lisbon had seen when Jane's plans went awry, had personally cleaned up the messes in his wake. Franklin had no idea what might be coming, and she had a really bad feeling about this.

"Have you tried to get your local police involved?" Lisbon asked, but feared she already knew the answer.

Franklin gave a clipped, humourless laugh. "Castillo owns the police, Senorita, by payoffs or blackmail. Senor Jane knows this; that is why he is helping me."

Just as she had suspected.

"Would you mind if I go to your home and see if I can track him down? I'm pretty good at that."

Franklin smiled. "Of course. You are la policia, si?"

"That's right," she said, smiling in return.

Franklin knew of the dead American agents who had tried to go up against Castillo, and he feared what could happen to this tiny woman, despite Jane's characterization of her as the bravest woman he knew. If something were to happen to Senorita Lisbon because of something he said, Franklin (not to mention Senor Jane) would never forgive himself.

"I have my afternoon break in two hours, Senorita. Please, wait for me, and I will come with you. Castillo is dangerous. Don't the American TV shows always say not to go anywhere without backup?"

Lisbon grinned. "Yes, but I'm not going to get into anything dangerous, Franklin. I'm just looking for Jane."

Despite her outward confidence, she still felt the absent weight where her shoulder holster would normally be, like a phantom limb.

She lowered her voice. "That being said, you wouldn't happen to know how I can get a weapon, do you?"

Franklin looked around, a flash of fear glinting in his eyes.

"It is illegal to own a gun on this island, Senorita."

"I'm not trying to entrap you, Franklin. I—I just didn't want to draw attention to myself by using my badge to take it through airport security and customs. Besides, I didn't think I'd be saving Jane from an arms dealer," she finished wryly.

"I am sorry, Senorita, truly. I do not have a gun. They are very expensive and hard to come by here."

"Oh, well," she replied. "It was worth asking. Now, how do I get to your house?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon looked around the village, all bedecked for Carnival. In the square, vendors sold their island-made goods and food to the plethora of tourists. Locals wore festive costumes, and street performers entertained in a variety of creative ways. The air was filled with heavenly aromas, laughter, and music. Sadly, Lisbon barely noticed any of it.

She found herself in front of the post office, and she remembered Jane's affection in his letters for the ladies who worked there. She could see them now, inside the shop—one behind the counter, smiling while busily exchanging money, and the other, her hair tied up in a silk Hermes scarf, sitting in a chair on the other side. The post office seemed to be the center of town; perhaps it was also the center of information. Maybe Jane had already come back but had not yet stopped in to see Franklin. She entered the building, waiting for her turn at the counter behind tourists mailing off post cards and buying cigarettes and candy bars.

"Buenos dias, Senorita," said Senora Quijada pleasantly.

"Buenos dias. Do you speak English?"

"A little, Senorita."

Her many years in California and now Texas had taught her rudimentary Spanish—enough to get by, but she was much more comfortable with her own language.

"Good. I was wondering if you have seen Patrick Jane today?"

The two women looked at each other.

"And who wishes to know?" Senor Quijada asked. Jane in his past stay on the island had always been very concerned about people looking for him. Her admiration of his kindness made her hesitant to share anything with this stranger.

"I am Teresa Lisbon. I'm a...friend of Jane's. From America. He left without saying good-bye."

The ladies' eyes widened in sudden realization. "You are his woman from California," she said with barely contained venom. "You broke his heart; that is why he came back. Senor Jane told us this."

_Broke his heart? _

It was so much the opposite, Lisbon almost laughed. But she didn't see how contradicting the woman would help get information from them about Jane. Besides, they seemed as enamored of Jane as Franklin had been. Had he hypnotized the whole damn island?

"I realized...how wrong I was about him," she said, filling her voice with regret. "I've come to find him and apologize. I—I want him back."

"Well," said Senora Paz, getting up from her chair and grabbing the hand of a beautiful young woman who had been stalking the shelves of island trinkets. The senora spoke in slow Spanish, hoping Lisbon understood. "You are too late, Senorita. Senor Jane has already found another—my niece, Eva."

Eva looked surprised and a little embarrassed at her aunt's contention. She genuinely liked Patrick Jane, but if this was the woman he loved, who had come all the way from America to reconcile, she wouldn't stand in the way. She suddenly found the whole thing wonderfully romantic.

"No, Senorita. _Tia_ is mistaken. Senor Jane told me himself he will never get over you. He's not ready to move on to someone else."

"Eva!" exclaimed Senora Paz. "Senor Jane took your phone number. He must be planning to call you."

Lisbon looked from Eva to her aunt, wondering how she had gotten embroiled in this strange little drama. Jane. Of course he was at the center of it. Her headache was returning with a vengeance.

"Look, all I'd really like to know is if you've seen Jane today," she repeated patiently.

"No," the women said in unison.

"But it is very early," added Senora Quijada.

"Okay. Thanks. And if you happen to see him, please tell him Teresa Lisbon is looking for him. I'm at the hotel..."

"Of course," said Eva.

The senoras didn't comment, just stood watching her with cold eyes, their lips tightly disapproving.

"Buenos dias," Lisbon said, taking her leave.

Behind her, in rapid Spanish, Senora Paz berated Eva for letting a good man slip away.

_Well,_ she thought, _if I don't find the idiot and save his ass, he won't be good for anyone._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't difficult to find Jane's familiar footprints in the soft earth near Franklin's home. She'd seen them enough over the years to recognize the prints as those made from Jane's atrocious brown footwear. Most of the roads in and around the village were not paved, but made from tightly packed dirt, compacted by countless years of various vehicles and the tread of native feet. Recent rains had allowed Jane's tracks, along with those of a large car—probably a limousine—to be clearly visible.

Lisbon followed Jane's steps from where they emerged from bushes near the front door of the house. He must have waited there, then emerged to follow the car. She followed their trail for perhaps a mile, until both stopped at the side of the road. She felt a jolt to her heart when she realized that, while the tire tracks went on, Jane's footprints did not. He'd been taken—whether by choice or by force, it was unclear.

But Lisbon tamped down her fears as best she could and methodically followed the tire tracks for perhaps another two miles. The road became increasingly narrower, the rain forest seeming to close in around her. The sounds of birds became almost deafening, and once, a long snake stretched across the road before her and she froze in place. Her head began to swim as she came dangerously close to hyperventilating, until the colorful serpent disappeared into the thick undergrowth. She swallowed dryly, then took a long draught from the bottled water she'd picked up before she'd left the village center.

Perspiration beaded on her brow from the oppressive humidity, and she could feel uncomfortable trickles of it beneath her armpits and between her breasts. She was a city girl, and it took everything inside of her to keep walking deeper into the unknown. But the thought of Jane, held captive by ruthless arms dealers, perhaps being tortured for information he did not have, spurred her on, and she tried to forget about the air conditioning of the hotel, or the beautiful swimming pool she'd seen outside the window of her overpriced suite.

Another mile further, and she saw the limousine. It was parked where the road had abruptly dead-ended. She hastily ducked into the thick ferns at the side of the road, trying not to think of the snake she'd seen earlier, grateful she was wearing her boots. She sidled alongside the road through the cloying smell of damp earth and vegetation, until she stopped beside the limo, hoping she was still hidden by the dense foliage.

The windows of the backseat were darkly tinted, but there was no driver in the front seat. She looked down on the ground before the car and saw that there were other footprints and more tire tracks now, from some sort of an off-road vehicle. She wished she had Rigsby with her—more expert than she on such things. He would be able to tell if the tracks were from a Jeep or a Land Rover.

_Good old Rigsby_.

She bravely stepped out of concealment and looked straight in through the front windshield to the back seat. The limo was empty. She tried the doors, but they were locked. Its occupants must have taken the four-wheel-drive into the jungle, confirmed by the matted trail that led into the mysterious jungle darkness.

"Shit," she said aloud.

She should go back to the village, she knew; wait for Franklin. The kid was young, but he no doubt knew his way around the area, would know what snakes were poisonous, for example. Or, better yet, she should bite the bullet and call Abbot, see what contacts he had in South America and see if he could get employ some sort of black ops extraction team. But, knowing Abbot, he wouldn't waste the government's time or resources to save Patrick Jane, a man who had fled the country and spit in the face of his hard-fought contract. In fact, Lisbon was pretty sure the only way Abbot would help Jane now was to exact revenge for making a fool of the senior agent, and he'd put him right into a federal pen the moment they touched down on American soil.

She looked forlornly back at the limousine. Castillo was obviously a powerful man, likely a very good businessman as well, given his apparent financial success. Such men were not above negotiating. Maybe, if she spoke to him, promised him the moon and stars, she could get both Jane _and_ Flora out of his evil clutches. Without a gun, Franklin wouldn't be much help anyway, she decided, and she didn't want to sacrifice the young man's life if things went south.

_No,_ Lisbon thought. _I'm it. I'm all that Jane has_. _Again._

She took a deep breath, took one last look down the road that led to civilization, and plunged into the tropical undergrowth.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She'd trudged another half-hour when the sound of a Latino rapper called to her like a hip hop siren. She was hot and sweaty, her hair falling out of its ponytail and curling around her damp face. The bleeding had finally stopped on her cheek where a vine she had moved out of her path had snapped back and slapped her like the lash of a whip. It had stung terribly, and she'd nearly turned around in frustration. But the trail had continued on, deeper into the rain forest, and she reminded herself she'd been in worse situations than this, and that Jane needed her.

"Buck up, Teresa," she muttered to herself.

Then, she'd heard the pounding beat of the music.

The sound played tricks on her, and if the trail made by the vehicle hadn't cut so clearly through the foliage, she would have had difficulty figuring out from which direction it emanated. She slowed her pace and crept on, deciding to skirt the trail in hopes of staying out of sight of whomever might be ahead.

Several yards more, and she could hear laughter rising above the music. She could just see the outline of carefully planted tropical plants, towering over what looked to be some sort of fence. The path kept going around the fence line, but Lisbon hoped she might be able to peek inside the fence to see the source of the music and voices. She parted the plants and found she was on the wrong side of a ten-foot high, chain link fence.

She squinted through the diamond-shaped hole she'd revealed and was greeted with the incongruous sight of an Olympic-sized swimming pool, surrounded by Chaise lounges and umbrella-covered tables. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that Jane was sitting on one of the lounges, his unmistakeable golden hair shining in the sun. He was shirtless, and wearing some sort of sarong-type garment low on his hips. Expensive sunglasses rested on his nose, and a smile lit his beautiful face.

Lisbon's jaw clenched as she watched a woman in a string bikini lovingly rubbing suntan lotion into Jane's back while he spoke to a toad-like man sitting beneath an umbrella. Three other women sunbathed on lounges nearby. Everyone poolside had a tropical drink in hand, complete with spears of fruit and decorative little umbrellas.

It was probably a good thing she didn't have a gun, Lisbon though, for at that moment, she seriously wanted to kill Patrick Jane.

"Hands on your head," said a voice in Spanish, at the same time the cool metal of a gun was jabbed into the back of her sweaty neck.

She complied, slowly and easily, and, next thing she new, she was being patted down for weapons by another man. Her wallet and badge were yanked from the back pockets of her jeans, while her cell phone was pulled from her front pocket. She gritted her teeth as the man roughly cupped her breasts as he continued his search, while his companion with the gun laughed and egged him on.

"Turn around, very slowly, Senorita," said the gunman. It was then that she saw that it was a machine gun that was pointed at her, and both men were wearing green military combat gear, though neither of them war the insignia from any country that she could recognize.

"Will you look at that, Miguel," said the man who had searched her. "Another FBI pig. Or in this case, a sow I suppose." He eyed her breasts lasciviously.

They both laughed again.

"She's a pretty little piggy though," said the gunman with a leer of his own. "Don Cesar is gonna have fun with this one. Maybe he'll let us have what's left."

"Move," Miguel ordered her in English, and his companion pushed the gun into her back. Obediently, Lisbon began to march back to the car path, and they followed it around to where a Land Rover was parked in a circle driveway, the earth here packed down like the main road that had stopped at the jungle's edge.

Lisbon's thoughts were racing almost as fast as her heart. What the hell kind of place was this, that would welcome Jane into the fold yet treat _her _like an intruder? Maybe he knew these people, or, more likely, maybe he was playing an extremely dangerous game.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Life was funny, thought Jane, sipping his rum-laced drink contentedly. Who would have guessed that Cesar Castillo was his biggest fan?

"Tell me, Senor. What were your thoughts as you felt the life draining from Red John's body?"

"I was finally...free," replied Jane honestly.

The arms dealer's entire body shook with his laughter.

"Si, I imagine that is true. To find vengeance is a beautiful thing, eh? I felt the same when I crushed Friston's skull like a walnut for having slept with my second wife."

Castillo mimed the action with his hands in fond remembrance. Jane tried not to let the man see him react, grateful that the Ray-Bans hid his eyes.

He smiled up at the beautiful Spanish rose who was protecting his skin with the appropriate SPF. Were he not in fear for his life, he might have enjoyed being caressed by a half-naked woman-Teresa Lisbon, more specifically.

"Gracias, Antonia," Jane said, and after a nod of approval from Castillo, the young woman retreated to her towel-covered lounge chair.

Castillo proffered a box of Cuban cigars to Jane, from which he gladly selected a Montecristo No. 2, and both men quietly went about the manly business of clipping the ends and lighting up. Jane enjoyed the wonderful taste of the woody smoke as he held it briefly in his mouth.

Castillo sat back in his chair, and Jane kept his eyes on his face, not on the very small Speedo he wore.

"I am honored that you chose to join me, Senor Jane—"

"Patrick, please," Jane corrected politely. This seemed to please the man immensely.

"Si, Patrick. And you must call me Don Cesar, as all my good friends do." He laughed heartily at his own joke.

"When I was in California two and a half years ago, I watched the whole thing unfold on the television," Castillo continued. "It was admirable, the way you disappeared without a trace. What are the odds you would find yourself here, on my very island, now a guest in my home?"

"A million to one," Jane guessed dryly, puffing his cigar.

"Si, at least that. We are men cut from a similar cloth, Patrick. You do not know how pleased I am to at last have civilized conversation with an equal."

Before Jane could come up with a suitably complimentary rejoinder, Castillo's attention was caught by a spectacle behind Jane's back.

"What is this?" Castillo demanded, reverting back to staccato Spanish.

"Pardon the interruption, Don Cesar, but we found this woman spying on you outside the fence."

Jane turned slowly, a strange feeling of dread suffusing him. When he saw Teresa Lisbon, flanked by two of Castillo's armed goons, his heart dropped to his stomach, and for a rare moment, Jane's mind went completely blank with shock.

"A _spy?_" said Castillo angrily. "How did she get this close without security catching her?"

The faces of the henchmen grew ashen. "We don't know, Senor. There must be something wrong with the system."

"Heads will roll for this," he growled. "Who is she?"

"She is Teresa Lisbon," said the man called Miguel. "She carries a badge from the FBI. She was not armed."

This struck Castillo as hilariously funny. "They failed with five of their men to get to me, and their plan now is to send a skinny, pale-skinned _woman_? If they had sent us their voluptuous Beyonce, they would have gotten much further with me. Now, I wouldn't mind if _that _woman pulled me around by the cajones!"

Everyone laughed in obedient appreciation, Jane included, though his eyes were devouring Teresa's appearance. She looked unharmed except for a nasty looking cut across her delicate cheek, but she was very dishevelled, and practically seething with anger. Because of him, he guessed, if the daggers shooting from her eyes in his direction were any indication.

_What the hell was she doing here? Had Abbot sent her without telling him?_

"What did you expect to accomplish, Agent Lisbon," Castillo was asking. "Coming here alone, with no weapon?"

Jane held his breath, willing her to deny their relationship. Castillo couldn't discover that he too was with the FBI. This would be the only way he could keep both of them alive.

"I came for Flora Morales," she nearly spat, her glare directed now at Castillo instead of Jane. "Her brother seems to think she is here against her will."

Beside Castillo, Flora jumped noticeably at the unwanted attention.

"Is this true, my dear?" asked Castillo, turning to the girl with a clear tone of warning.

"Of course not, Don Cesar," she said, her voice shaking a little. "I only want to be with you."

"Well, there you have it, Agent Lisbon. The question now is, what am I to do with you?"

A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to Castillo, and he rounded on Jane. It was too much of a coincidence that two Americans had suddenly found their way inside his fences, not to mention the fact that they _had_ taken a weapon off Jane earlier.

"Patrick," he said softly, dangerously. "Do you know this gringa?"

"No," replied Jane, praying for the first time in years that he was doing the right thing. "I've never seen this woman before in my life."

**A/N: Phew! Yes, another cliffie. Sorry about that. I'm sure, however, that waterbaby will know exactly what to do with this impossible situation I've left you with. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This was a hell of a chapter to write. Thank you for your patience in waiting for it. I have several things going on in my life right now.**

**Thanks to my writing partner Donna, for her input in this chapter. It was much appreciated. Also, thanks to everyone who reviews, reads, or follows me on Twitter. You guys are the reason I write.**

**As always, read and please enjoy!**

**Chapter 5 **

Lisbon's heart broke a little, hearing Jane denounce her as easily as if she were some cheap hooker he'd picked up at a nightclub. His tone was cool and uncaring, and he continued to recline in his lounge chair as though she wasn't worth the effort of sitting up.

"Are you quite sure?" Castillo pressed. " Remove your glasses and take a good, long look."

After a slight pause, Jane obeyed, lifting his sunglasses until they rested on top of his head. Those sea-green eyes she knew so well travelled over her, like they had done so many times, but with a marked disinterest that she'd never seen before. Castillo was watching him closely, clearly looking for signs of recognition, but her partner was careful not to betray even one. An outsider observing the scene could never have guessed that they were partners and friends of over a decade.

Neither, apparently, could Castillo. After a few tense moments, he nodded and waved his two goons forward once more, and they each took her by one arm.

"Dispose of her," he instructed them, carelessly. "Do what you please with her and then dump her by the side of the road so her FBI brethren can find her."

Her stomach seemed to twist upon itself with fear. Yes she was strong for a woman of her stature, but she would be no match for two hulking men, each carrying a semiautomatic weapon. Was this how she was going to die, deep in the heart of the jungle with Jane sunning himself mere feet away, apparently in cahoots with a dangerous criminal?

Miguel stared her up and down, hungrily examining her breasts, her hips and her legs. "Don Cesar you are too kind," he said. "We'll have such fun with this senorita."

She forced herself to look the gorilla-like man in his small, sunken eyes, refusing to let him see her fear. If she died today than so be it, but she'd do her damndest to take him down with her.

"Lay one finger on me and it'll be the last thing you ever do," she snarled, and all the men, including Jane, laughed derisively. Her head knew that he was probably just playing along to keep up appearances; but in her heart, it still hurt.

"She has spirit," said Castillo, as his chuckles died away.

"Don Cesar," Jane was carefully unfolding himself from his lounge chair and approaching the older man. The sun caressed his golden-brown skin and incredibly, she found her eyes being drawn to his bare chest. His curls glistened in the golden light. Even now, with her life seemingly coming to a close, she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

Well, she supposed she might as well look now. She'd be going to hell in a few minutes either way.

Jane dipped his head deferentially to Castillo, who smiled at him approvingly as though he were surveying a favourite nephew.

"Might I make a suggestion, Don Cesar?" asked Jane. "Perhaps hold off on killing her for a while."

The smile froze on Castillo's face and his eyes turned cold as they narrowed. "Why should you care, Patrick? You said you didn't know her." Lisbon heard the warning in his voice, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Miguel move his hand to the trigger of his weapon.

"I don't," Jane assured his host. "But I should_ very_ much like to, if you get my meaning." His eyes scanned her body much like Miguel's had just done, gleaming with undisguised lust. "I always was partial to a brunette."

"Of which I have plenty to choose from," said Castillo, indicating his bevy of women, who all smiled invitingly at Jane as if on cue. Each one was tall and tanned with large breasts and stomachs so toned Lisbon was hard-pressed to believe that they ever ate. Stupid though it was, she couldn't help feeling just the tiniest bit inferior to these Latino goddesses. She could spend hours in the gym every day and never achieve such a glorious physique. Some things were God-given.

Despite the carnal smorgasbord he was being offered however, Jane's gaze barely left her for a moment. "This one's feisty," he said, with a sly grin. "I like feisty."

Castillo smirked. "You are a man of strange tastes Patrick, but who am I to deny my honoured guest his prize?" he said. "Miguel, Rico, take the senorita to Senor Jane's quarters. Patrick, stay and have another drink with me." It wasn't a request.

Miguel looked mightily disappointed, but did not dare refuse a direct order from Castillo. He and Rico escorted her roughly into the compound and down several hallways until they arrived in a small bedroom, lavishly decorated with rich red carpet and a heavy oak bedstead.

"We'll have our time together soon, _mi querido_, don't you worry," he said to Lisbon, producing a thick cord and tying her hands and feet to a straight-backed chair that stood in the corner of the room. "Once the American tires of your charms." She flinched away from him as his finger reached out to trace her face, and then he departed.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, she set about trying to escape her bonds. She writhed around, twisting her body this way and that, but Miguel was clearly no novice when it came to knots; they held fast. She could feel herself beginning to perspire again, from a combination of the effort, and the humid weather, wondering how long it would be before she passed out.

Outside, the music resumed, and if she listened hard she could hear the faint buzz of voices, though not clearly enough to make out what they were saying. She hadn't stopped to rest or eat since early this morning and she knew she must be dehydrated at the very least. What she wouldn't give for one of those fruity drinks Castillo and his crew had been sipping when she'd arrived. Or even better, an ice-cold beer.

She twisted her hands around again, but still her bindings didn't loosen and she let out a growl of frustration.

Of all the things that Jane had done to make her question him, this one really took the biscuit. She'd expected to find him holed up in some island bungalow, hiding from the world. Keeping a low profile, only emerging for food or when the tea ran out. Instead, he'd been gallivanting around the island casting her as the villainess who had supposedly broken his heart, chatting up islander girls and schmoozing criminals.

And to think of how worried she'd been about him, that he might be in some kind of danger. To her, it looked like the biggest peril he faced was sunburn, and the lovely, leggy Antonia had seen to that for him. She remembered the woman's smile as she rubbed the lotion into his back. Castillo was by no means an attractive man, so tending to a modern-day Adonis like Jane must have been quite a treat for her. Grimacing, she tried to force the image out of her head. Petty jealousy was never useful, and especially not now.

Even through her fury at her consultant, there was still a small part of her that kept saying there was more to this than what she was seeing. This part had remained stubbornly, almost obnoxiously in love with him for all these years, no matter what he did. It had seen her through Vegas and Lorelai Martins, Red John, and their two-year separation, but could it survive this?

Jane had finished his drink within minutes, and was drumming his fingers on the table, attempting to pay attention to Castillo's long-winded tale of his defeat of a competing arms dealer early in his career. He took care to look suitably impressed and laughed in all the right places, but he couldn't stop thinking about Teresa. What was she doing here? How had she found him? He had been so careful. And most importantly he now had to find a way to get himself, Flora, _and_ Lisbon out of here alive. The task had been formidable enough with two people involved. Now there were three of them it was bordering on impossible. He'd _told_ Abbot she'd be suspicious at his sudden disappearance, made the senior agent promise to keep an eye on her. He'd clearly done a fantastic job of that.

He itched to be with her, to explain himself. It had killed him to look at her the way he had and say she meant nothing to him, but surely she'd understand that he had no choice. If Castillo had even the slightest suspicion of foul play they'd both be dead by now.

"-and then if you'll believe it, my friend, the fool actually had the cojones to ask me to let him work for me," Castillo was saying, viciously. "So I took one of his substandard guns, pointed it between his eyebrows, blew him away, and then sent the head to his wife. Just to get the point across."

Jane forced himself to smile appreciatively, as Castillo beamed with pride. With the notable exception of Red John, Jane didn't think he'd ever met a man more unworthy to be drawing breath. He spoke of murder and violence with a savage pleasure that made Jane's skin crawl, with absolutely no remorse. Worse still, Castillo saw him as a kindred spirit, a man equal to him in his blood thirst and lust for power; and wasn't far off the mark. Jane too, had killed violently and enjoyed it. He still felt nothing but vindication in murdering Red John. How much more would it take for he too, to descend into a creature like Castillo had become? So far, his sweet Lisbon had managed to hold him back from that dark fate, but there was only so much evil that even she could counteract.

Castillo snapped his fingers in front of his face, and Jane realised that he'd lost track of the conversation, absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Forgive me, Don Cesar," he said. "I was a little distracted."

Castillo waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, Patrick, I think I know what ails you." He grinned conspiratorially. Thinking about that little American slice waiting for you in your room?"

With difficulty, Jane managed not to cringe. He turned it into a smile instead.

"Got it in one, sir."

The arms dealer let out a laugh that made his entire wizened body quiver.

"Ah, the senoritas. They'll be the death of us all."

Jane privately agreed. He was fairly sure he'd had a minor heart episode when he'd first seen Lisbon being dragged in. Thank God he'd been able to recover in time to throw Castillo off the scent, but it had taken every iota of biofeedback skill he had not to rush forward and rip Miguel and Rico's unworthy hands from her.

But he had to keep up appearances. So for at least a little while longer, he'd have to resist the great temptation to run to her side.

He smiled at his host once again, and held up his empty glass, questioningly.

"Another?"

It must have been hours since she'd been brought into this room, Lisbon thought. The sun was burning the back of her neck through the window. She was so thirsty she could literally feel her tongue swelling up inside her mouth. The world slid in and out of focus and she could feel the beads of sweat rolling down her face.

If they ever got out of this, the first thing she would do would be to punch Jane in the face. Secondly, she would shout at him until her voice gave out. Then, she would punch him in the face again, and then shout at him some more. She would continue in this fashion until she collapsed from exhaustion or he fell to his knees and begged her forgiveness. Which she may or may not be compelled to give, depending on her mood at the time.

She hoped he was comfortable out there with his cool drinks and beautiful women and sparkling conversation. The bastard.

From outside the room, she heard several sets of footsteps approaching, accompanied by male voices conversing in rapid Spanish. She could tell Jane was among them, as his pronunciation was a little slower than the rest. Besides, she could have picked his voice out of a stadium full of people.

When the doorknob turned and Jane finally entered the room, she heard his cohorts jeering and whistling in the hallway. By the way he was frowning at their comments, she was suddenly glad she spoke very little Spanish. He shut the door firmly behind him.

"Pigs," he muttered under his breath as their footsteps receded. When he turned towards her, she felt herself light up. She may have been angry with him, but she was sure glad to see the glass of iced water he held in his hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, have we met? I don't think I've ever seen you before in my life." She glared at him and he flinched, but it was with certain stiffness in his tone that he answered her.

"OK, I deserved that. But I'm not going to apologise. You know I had no choice but to say that. He'd have killed you, Lisbon."

He was probably right, but she didn't have to like it. And she _certainly_ didn't have to admit it.

"So now what, Don Patrick?" she asked in mocking tones, as he set the glass down on a dresser. "You throw me onto the bed and have your way with me, and then go crow about it with your new compadres?"

He said nothing, but knelt down in front of her, releasing her from her bonds one by one, running his thumb tenderly over the angry red marks where the rope had cut into her skin. His touch was as soothing as a balm.

"What are you doing here, Teresa?" he asked her softly.

"I could ask you the same question," she said, disappointed when he stopped caressing her skin. "Pass me the water, please."

He handed her the glass, watching her with concern as she gulped it down. She felt his eyes appraising her, lingering on the cut on her cheek and her rumpled clothes, from where Miguel had grabbed her earlier.

"I'm fine," she said, when he failed to look away. "I've been roughed up far worse."

She put the empty glass down on the floor beside her, which was apparently the cue for her partner to lean forward and throw his arms around her.

"I missed you," he said, drawing her flush against his body, and she took the opportunity to rest her head on his shoulder briefly, taking comfort in his solid nearness after so many days of uncertainty. He smelled like suntan lotion and cigar smoke, but he was alive, and safe, and for the moment that was all that mattered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her again. "Did Abbot send you?"

"He doesn't know I'm here. Nobody does, except the Rigsbys."

"How did you find me?" He seemed reluctant to let her go; as she tried to pull back from his embrace, he held on tight.

"It wasn't easy," she admitted. "You didn't leave many clues for me. Kind of like you didn't want to be found." She finally broke off their embrace to search his eyes for any clues as to how he might be feeling.

"But you came anyway."

She gave a humourless laugh. "You've made me wait for you too many times, Jane. I thought it was time to try something new."

"I didn't leave because I wanted to." If she understood nothing else from this conversation, he hoped she would believe that. The last thing he'd wanted was to be separated from her again, and if he'd seen any way out of this job, he would have taken it.

"So, why did you?"

Nothing about this situation was making any sense to her. If Jane had been trying to escape the FBI, why would he choose this island, where they would be bound to look for him? And why would he put himself at risk by messing with a man like Castillo, just for the sake of one girl? Sure, he had a thing for damsels in distress, but not to the extent of putting himself in danger for no other reason.

"You didn't tell anyone where you were going. You just disappeared. Again. For a while, I thought the people who got Ardiles had gotten you too. I thought I'd lost you for good this time."

Many times, he had imagined how she would have reacted when she'd found him gone, but to hear the pain in her voice as she described it to him made him want to reach for her again.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you," he said, apologetically. "Abbot swore me to secrecy."

"What does Abbot have to do with anything?" she asked. "He was just as interested as I was in your little disappearing act."

"He sent me here," he explained. There was no point keeping it from her any longer. "Top-secret undercover mission to try and bring down this bastard." He gestured out the window to where the strains of music could still be heard. "He did his homework, Lisbon. It was almost beautiful. He had me over a barrel. I couldn't say no."

She bristled at this unpleasant revelation. Abbot, her superior, had lied practically to her face. He'd even had the gall to ask her where Jane was, and to be irritated at his failure to arrive for work. Now she realized it had all been act. He'd played her for a fool, and as usual when things concerned Jane she'd reacted exactly like he'd expected her to. She'd panicked; worried, and blamed herself when she should have been directing her ire to a man she was supposedly meant to trust.

Who else had known about this? Not Cho, she thought, he would surely have told her, but Agent Fischer was possible. She and Abbot might even have cooked up this little scheme together in his office after hours. The day before she'd left, Fischer had asked after Jane, seemingly concerned, and she'd been touched that she had cared. Now, she suspected the other agent had been covering her tracks. She would have hoped that with the dismantling of the Blake Association, corruption and duplicity in her life would have been over, but apparently not.

Something else struck her as odd. Never in her life had she known Jane to be forced into doing something he didn't want to do. Abbot must have had something huge over him to make him do this.

"Jane, why didn't you just tell him to go to hell? It wouldn't be the first time you'd disobeyed an order and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. What could he possibly have said to you? Did he bribe you? Threaten you?"

She really didn't get it. How could she not know by now that there was only thing on Earth that could be used as leverage against him?

"He was going to have you transferred to New York," said Jane, not meeting her eyes. "He was going to split us up. And he wasn't bluffing. He already had the paperwork ready to go. If I'd refused, you'd probably be there already."

She felt a further stab of anger at the thought of Abbot using her as a weapon against her partner. She and the senior agent were going to have some serious words when they got back home.

"Wouldn't that have been preferable to you running around the jungle on your own, associating with criminals?

"Not in my book."

He seemed so adamant on that point she didn't know whether to be annoyed with him or flattered. She compromised by reaching over and taking his hand.

"I wish you'd talked to me about this," she said, with a sigh. "We could have done something about it; or at the very least, figured out a way to keep in touch."

"You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you," he said softly. "That day we had lunch together, I wanted to tell you so badly I could hardly bear it."

"I should have known you were up to something," she said ruefully. She'd revisited that Italian restaurant in her mind many times over the last few days. In hindsight, she'd realized that he'd been acting a little strange; distracted and answering questions even more evasively than usual. She hadn't noticed those things the first time around. She'd been too preoccupied with her romantic notions that he might have invited her out just to spend time with her. As usual he'd had an ulterior motive, to say goodbye without the hassle of actually saying it. And as usual, she'd failed to read the signs.

She tried to put the thoughts out of her head. She'd have time to curse her stupidity later; right now they had more pressing things to worry about.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and the soft glow of fire was visible through the window from the torches being lit around the pool area.

"So what now?" she asked. "How are we going to get out of this? And how are we going to convince Flora to come with us?"

"I know she's not happy with Castillo," said Jane. "He beats her. But she's understandably frightened to leave him. It's going to take some time to coax her into the idea, and time is something we don't have. Eventually, someone will do some further research about me and the truth about us will come out. And take it from me, we do not want to be here when it does."

She recognized the "I have an idea, but you're probably not going to like it' tone, and turned to him apprehensively.

"What do you want me to do?

* * *

"You have got to be joking."

She held up the dress he'd brought her and examined it. Well, 'dress' was probably being a bit generous, ''scrap of black satin' was closer to the mark. She didn't want to think about where it might have been, or whom it might have been _on_, before it came to be in her possession.

"I know it's not your usual kind of thing, but if you're going to be my arm-candy you have to look the part," said Jane, not even bothering to conceal his smirk. "Come on, you'll be fine. All you have to do is put on the dress, walk out there with me and look as though you're having a good time."

"I hate this plan," she complained.

"Well, if you have any better ideas, I'd love to hear them," he said. If truth be told, he didn't much like the idea of parading her around like a trophy either. But he liked the idea of leaving her to be prey of Miguel and Rico even less. This way, she'd be safely by his side, an extra brain and a pair of eyes to help plan their escape. It was the lesser of two evils. On the upside, he _was _looking forward to seeing her in that dress.

"This had better work," she said.

"It will." He needed to convince Castillo that Lisbon was not a threat to him, and he figured the short, tight dress couldn't hurt. Castillo appreciated three things in life; good wine, good cigars, and beautiful women.

She moved into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her. He could hear her moving around, and the soft thud of her clothing landing on the floor. The tap ran, and he wondered if she was splashing some on herself to combat the heat. He pictured those little water droplets glistening on her shoulder; rolling slowly down her collarbone…she was mere feet away from him naked and wet. How long had he been dreaming about that?

Oh God, if only they could be alone. If only their lives and the life of an innocent girl weren't in danger.

The doorknob turned and he somehow managed to pull himself together. But not for long, She emerged from the bathroom holding the dress to her.

"I can't reach the stupid zip," she complained, turning so her back was to him. "You do it."

"Are you sure you can't?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound bored, but panicking slightly on the inside. Touching her probably wasn't the best idea right now, with desire for her pumping through every inch of his body. He might not be able to control himself.

If she noticed his struggle, she didn't let on, merely letting out a huff of impatience.

"Don't be such a jerk," she snapped. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

As he moved to do her bidding, Jane ordered himself to get a grip. He was fully trained in biofeedback after all. He would simply not notice the way the satin clung to her curves like it had been made for her, the silky strands of her hair whipping through his fingers as he swept it over her shoulder, out of the way. And he must have imagined the way her whole body seemed to quiver when he touched her for the first time. He fumbled for the tiny zipper and his fingers brushed bare skin, smooth and warm.

They were both holding their breath as he pulled the zipper into position, wishing he didn't have to stop touching her, but knowing that he must. She let her hair fall back where it had been, and turned back to face him again.

"How do I look?" she asked.

She was perfect. She took his breath away.

"It'll do," he told her instead, and pretended he didn't see her face fall momentarily in disappointment. This was not the moment for waxing lyrical. He made a vow to himself that if they managed to get out of this, he'd make up for this by telling her she was beautiful every day. And he'd find excuses to get her into little black dresses _much_ more often.

Lisbon could see Jane putting on his game face as they walked back out to the pool area, controlling his emotions, emptying his mind. After all, he had a part to play, one that determined whether or not they'd live to see tomorrow morning. As they walked, she could hear him take a few long, steadying breaths as the music outside grew louder, and the babble of voices became discernable as words.

Just as they reached the door though, he came abruptly to a halt.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm going to have to be an absolute jerk to you when we get out there," he warned her, in a low voice. "Please don't think I mean anything I say."

"Twelve years together and _now_ you're warning me about being a jerk?" she asked incredulously. "Where was this consideration the day we met?" She was pleased when he cracked a smile. "Just do what you have to do to get us out of here, and then we can go home and beat the living crap out of Abbot."

They entered the pool area together, Jane's arm possessively around her shoulders, to applause and catcalls from assembled gang members. She could feel the eyes of Miguel and a few others on her again as they walked over to Jane's lounge.

Castillo, who was barking a command at Flora to refill his drink, lowered his sunglasses as they approached.

"Ah Patrick," he said, genially. "I trust you have punished this little rat for trespassing on my property."

Jane chuckled as he settled back on the chair. "Oh yes, senor, and soundly. With your permission, I should like to keep her a bit longer," he said, sparing her a bored glance. "She is no Beyoncé, sir, but she's got stamina. Go," he added to her carelessly, waving a dismissive hand towards where the other women were gathered. "You're not in the FBI now, gringa, with your gender equality and sexual harassment policies. Men are working."

She was glad that she wasn't the one acting for their lives, because she was sure the hurt was visible on her face, as Jane spat the words at her and then turned away. Castillo, seeing this, grinned cruelly. His hand shot out to grab her arm with an iron grip well beyond the scope of most men his age. She winced with the pain, and while it killed Jane to see it, he didn't dare intervene

"Don't think you're fooling me with that pretty dress," Castillo whispered. "Once a trespassing little snake, always a trespassing little snake. Patrick's fancy for you will fade soon enough my dear, and when it does…watch your step."

Not once did he shout or even raise his voice above a whisper, the murder in his eyes was enough.

Lisbon longed for her gun. She would point it at the criminal's head, force him to his knees like the trash he was, and shoot him as he begged for mercy, No doubt he had done the same to many people during his long career. She never chose killing over arresting if she could help it, but the world would be better off without people like Castillo in it.

She walked around the pool to join the other women, teetering slightly in the heels Jane had found for her to go with the dress. On the pretext of bending to adjust the ankle strap, she took a good look around. High fences surrounded the entire compound, and the gate was presided over by two armed guards. Surrounding the area on all sides was thick jungle, but for a small dirt road leading to the gate. That road would no doubt lead to a bigger road and help, but they'd be on foot and Castillo and his men would have vehicles. They'd catch them within minutes and this time they would be killed without hesitation. Their best chance was to disappear into the jungle. The crew would still pursue them of course, but they'd have difficulty finding them, and a decent enough head start might give them just enough time to get reinforcements before things turned ugly.

She looked over to the western side of the compound. There was another, smaller gate there leading out into the jungle, with a swipe card point next to it to gain access. She had a nasty feeling it was mostly used for getting rid of people that the crew had killed. But they might be able to get out that way if they could get their hands on a card.

Then there was Flora. A great deal depended on if she would be convinced to join them. She knew Jane would never forgive himself if he failed his friend, and she too would hate to leave the young girl here. All the women bore the marks of recent abuse, but as Castillo's personal mistress, Flora appeared to have taken the brunt of it.

The six women looked up as she approached them. Antonia, Jane's sun safety advocate from earlier, was the first to address her, in Spanish. She spoke so fast that Lisbon had no hope of understanding her and so just shook her head helplessly.

"English?" asked Antonia, and at Lisbon's nod, repeated herself in near-fluent English.

"Senor Castillo has dealings with many people," Antonia explained as Lisbon looked at her in surprise. "Americanos especially."

She introduced her fellows one by one, all of which offered her a small smile in greeting. Flora looked to be the youngest of the group, and though she nodded in acknowledgement when her name was mentioned, she determinedly avoided Lisbon's eye.

"I'm…Teresa," she said, stopping herself from using her last name just in time. She'd have to bond with these women if she wanted Flora to trust her.

"You are policía?" asked Rosaline, a woman in her mid-twenties. "How did you find us?"

She couldn't very well tell them the real reason she had wound up in this godforsaken place, so Lisbon repeated her story of being sent to find Flora, all the while watching the woman in question. At the mention of her brother, her eyes lit up.

"Franklin is all right?" she asked quietly.

Lisbon pressed her advantage. "He misses you," she said. "He worries about you."

Flora dropped her eyes again and said no more.

Across the pool, a stream of raucous laughter broke out from the men, and she found herself glancing back over at Jane who seemed to be delighting in whatever the joke was.

"Senor Jane is handsome, no?" asked Antonia, following her eyeline. "You are fortunate that he takes an interest in you. Don Cesar has killed for far less than trespassing." Lisbon couldn't help but wonder how many murders the woman had witnessed, in order to speak of them in such a casual manner. "He was kind to me," Antonia went on. "I spilled a drink earlier, and he took the blame for himself. Don Cesar would have me beaten if he had known."

Lisbon felt herself smile. That sounded just like Jane. He really was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

"The bruises have not started to show yet," said Antonia, suddenly business-like, taking Lisbon's arm. "We can show you how to hide them, when they do."

She was confused for a moment, but noticing the purplish finger marks around Antonia's wrists and on her face, suddenly understood.

"I'm not hurt. Senor Jane barely laid a hand on me," she answered, truthfully, and around the table the women exchanged stunned looks.

"He did not take advantage of you?" piped up Rosaline. "He did not make you pleasure him at all?"

Lisbon's heart wrenched for these women as she shook her head. Clearly their experience of men had shown them nothing but domination, pain and fear. She looked from one shocked face to the next and hoped that they would all get the chance to know what a good man was.

"He was kind to me," she said, repeating Antonia's words.

"You are fortunate," said Antonia and the other women made noises of agreement. "I only hope it will last."

She wished she could tell them the truth; that Jane was her best friend of many years; that he would rather die than lay a hand on her. That good people in the world weren't as rare as they all seemed to think.

"Flora!"

Castillo's voice boomed out across the pool area. Lisbon saw Flora close her eyes briefly for a moment before getting up to answer the summons. This seemed to be the cue for everybody, as all the women wearily rose from their seats and followed her. One by one, they peeled off to drape themselves over members of the crew each with a sunny smile pasted upon her face, even though she was sure it was the last thing they felt like doing. Flora sat on the side of Castillo's chair and Lisbon wondered if she was the only one who saw the young girl wince as he slung an arm around her waist.

Soon, she was the only one left standing. Only two men remained without a female companion, Jane and Miguel, the latter who was looking at her like a wolf after it's prey.

"What are you waiting for, woman?" came Jane's voice, sharply. "An official summons? Get over here." Most of the other men, including Castillo chuckled merrily at the joke, but she noticed Miguel throw Jane a dirty look as she made her way over to him. No doubt he was feeling cheated, and was less happy to take orders from Jane than from Castillo.

It was awkward, climbing onto the chair and entwining herself around her consultant with the eyes of twenty people watching. The only way she could manage it was to avoid eye contact with anybody. He'd dispensed of his shirt again now and his skin was warm and still slightly oily to the touch, which was a shame. She wouldn't have minded rubbing some more sun cream on him if he'd needed it. Around her, the other women were talking in hushed voices to their men, kissing them, or caressing their faces. Despite the fact that it was obviously expected of her, she couldn't quite bring herself to do any of those things with Jane. Instead, she compromised by sliding one arm around his neck and using the other to stroke his golden curls away from his face over and over again. She'd wanted to do this for years, and finally she had an excuse.

Castillo and his crew barely acknowledged the women fawning over them and continued their conversation as though there had been no interruption. For Jane however, talking was pretty much impossible with Lisbon wrapped around him like this. He could tell she was uncomfortable, she kept fidgeting around and her heartbeat was increasingly erratic, but he wasn't sure if it that was due to their proximity, or the many eyewitnesses. Under the cover of another long tale of Castillo's he took the opportunity to whisper to her.

"You're doing well."

She paused for a minute in the stroking of his hair.

"At undercover work or at being your personal slave?"

"Both. Although the slave part is definitely my favourite."

She smiled at him, and for a moment he forgot they were in an arm's dealer's backyard, one mistake away from death.

"Any ideas?" he asked, and then hastily joined in as the others laughed sycophantically at Castillo's story. She told him about the little side gate she'd found and the need of a card to open it.

"It should be easy enough to swipe one, if we can just figure out who carries them," said Jane. "I bet only the most trusted members of the crew would have access."

"I bet Miguel has one," said Lisbon, looking over at the man in question. "I could probably get it off him if I could get close enough." The idea was repulsive to her, but it just might work. He'd be suspicious, yes, after her continued rebuffs of him, but she had enough experience of lustful men to know exactly how to push his buttons.

This idea went down like a lead balloon when she proposed it to Jane.

"Over my dead body is that filthy pig getting his hands on you," he said, in a forceful whisper.

"Do you think I like it any more than you do?" she asked. "You're not the one he's going to be pawing at. I have to do this, Jane, it's the only way." She leant down a little to whisper in her ear. "You don't have to be the one that makes all the sacrifices anymore. I'm here now. Let me help you."

"How can you be sure it'll even work?" he asked. As he posed this question however, he noticed the babble of talk around them was starting to lessen. He looked around to see that they were garnering curious looks from many of the people surrounding them.

"We're talking too much," he hissed to Lisbon through gritted teeth. "They're getting suspicious."

"Patrick," Castillo boomed out. "I'm sure we'd all love to know what you two are talking about that could possibly be so fascinating."

"Do something!" Jane hissed again.

"What?"

"Anything!"

Maybe it was the tropical heat, maybe it was because she hadn't slept properly in days, or maybe it was because she'd taken complete leave of her senses, but she could only think of one thing to do.

When their lips met for the first time, she could tell she had taken him by surprise. It took him a moment to start kissing her back, but when he did, she forgot about Castillo, about Flora, about all of it. She kissed him like she'd always wanted to, hard and passionate and he responded in kind, matching her for every kiss. She could feel his arms winding around her, pulling her closer, the contact of bare skin like electricity pulsing through her.

She couldn't hold back the little moan that issued from her as his fingers began to gently pull through her hair and she kissed him more fiercely, like she'd never kissed anyone before. She was practically lying on top of him now, touching every inch of him that she could get her hands on, feeling his body quiver in response.

God, he was a good kisser. She'd always known he would be. He seemed to respond to her thoughts rather than her actions, as he briefly parted their lips to plant tender kisses on her neck, before she'd even realized she'd wanted him to. She felt him tighten his arms around her just as she thought about how much she wanted to be even closer to him.

She could kiss him all day if she had to. She could lie here and kiss him for the rest of her life and then die a happy woman, only to go to heaven and kiss him for all eternity.

When he finally broke the kiss off, even though breathless, she had to bite her lip to keep from howling in protest.

"People are watching," he reminded her.

She'd forgotten they had an audience, and looked up with a touch of embarrassment. The faces around her looked a little stunned and disgusted at the sudden PDA, but at least they were no longer suspicious.

"Be careful, Patrick," said Castillo, dispassionately. "Just remember you don't know exactly where this _mujerzuela_ has been. You might catch something."

"Good plan," Jane managed to say to her, after they'd both caught their breath.

She smiled that mischievous smile that he'd always loved. The one that said 'I just broke a rule, and I liked it.' She didn't wear it enough.

"I think we were pretty convincing."

Her dress had ridden up over her thighs, the creamy pale skin giving him an almost irresistible invitation to touch her again. Perhaps luckily, she noticed it at the same time and smoothed the satin back down again.

"Where on Earth do good Catholic girls learn to kiss like that?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Castillo was watching them closely, his lip curling as his gaze settled on Lisbon, running the pad of his thumb back and forth over the blade of a knife. Instinctively, Jane pulled her just a fraction closer.

Miguel rose from his chair and began to make his way to the small bar at the other end of the pool area. It was the ideal opportunity to get him by himself

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "We can find another way."

"There _is _no other way," she pointed out, gently. "I can do this. Trust me."

Gracefully, she disentangled herself from him and got to her feet. Jane took a moment to appreciate the way the brilliance of the South American sunset made her seem to glow. Her legs went for miles in those heels.

"And where do you think you are going, Miss Lisbon?" Castillo demanded to know.

"To fix Senor Jane another drink of course," she answered, sweetly.

Swiftly, Castillo got up too. "A likely story," he said. "If I have learned one thing in life, it is to trust my instincts." He brandished the knife. "And mine are telling me I should gut you here and now."

For a man so squat, and so old, Castillo moved fast. To Jane's horror, Castillo was behind her in an instant, pressing the blade into her throat.

Amazingly, she kept her cool, breathing steadily, keeping her eyes forward.

"Patrick trusts you," said Castillo. "And as my honoured guest, his opinion counts for much. But know this, betray me or this organization, and death will be preferable to what I will unleash on you."

Lisbon looked shaken when he released her, but she composed herself and continued to the bar as though nothing had happened. He didn't think he'd ever loved her more.

As for Castillo, he hoped death would come swiftly and painfully for him; the day this was all over, particularly when he noticed the drop of blood the knife had drawn glistening on her neck.

Miguel was halfway through making himself a drink when she found him. She could feel Jane's eyes trained on her, but determined not to look. She reached for a glass, deliberately brushing against him as she did so.

She plucked a cherry from a glass and put it in her mouth, aware of Miguel watching her every move.

"I didn't think they made police dogs as pretty as you," he said to her, and she forced herself to smile.

"I didn't think animals like you were allowed to carry weapons."

"You talk tough now, but just you wait until I get my hands on you," he snarled. He lunged for her, but she quickly stepped aside, dipping her small hand into his pocket. She had the card away from him in less than a second; it seemed that practice with watching Jane in sleight of hand had paid off.

"You never will," she said, wheeling around, and "accidently" finding his toes with her six-inch heel. She pressed down hard, just to make sure, and he howled with pain, clutching his injured foot.

"Where's the card?" Jane asked when she finally found her way back to him. He couldn't see it in her hand, but she must have got it or she wouldn't have come back.

"Don't ask." In lieu of pockets in that tiny dress, she'd been forced to conceal it somewhere she didn't feel like sharing with him at present.

"It won't be long before he notices it's gone, if we're going to do this we'd better do it soon."

She leaned into toward him again, her warm breath in his ear made him shudder.

"Let's do it tonight."

**Another day, another cliffie. Once again, I pass the baton to the wonderful Donna to continue the story.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks for continuing with us on this journey. I hope you're having as much fun as waterbaby and I are. **

**Watch out for some coarse language in this chapter. **

**Chapter 6**

It must have been ten o'clock before the party around the pool began to wind down. Castillo dismissed the women, and invited Jane to his private rooms for cards. Lisbon grabbed a bottled water on her way past the refreshment table. As Miguel led her away from Jane, their eyes met, speaking volumes.

_Be careful._

_I don't want to leave._

_Later, tonight, we'll get the hell out of here._

_I'm sorry, Lisbon._

Halfway to Jane's room, Miguel pressed his hand to her ass. It was all she could do not to elbow him in the gut and steal his gun. She chose instead to stop and give him her most withering look over her shoulder. Of course, he just chuckled, and squeezed her left buttock painfully.

Without thinking, she turned and kneed him in the groin. Miguel doubled over, cursing her in Spanish.

"Touch me again, asshole, and I'll save humankind from your progeny."

He made a choking sound and cussed some more, dropping his gun with a clatter.

"_Puta_," he growled in agony.

Lisbon continued on to Jane's room by herself, fully expecting the burn of a bullet in her back at any moment. But she made it to the door unscathed, her heart pounding. She'd let her anger get the better of her, a mistake she might pay for later. When she found she couldn't lock the door from the inside, she propped the chair she'd been tied to earlier beneath the doorknob. It wouldn't hold Miguel for long if he tried to get in, but she was counting on the threat of Castillo's wrath upon Miguel to keep her safe.

"Hurry up, Jane," she muttered, and with a stream of anxious prayers, she began to pace nervously.

A half-hour later, there was a timid knock on the door. She jumped at the sound. It didn't sound like Miguel, she thought in relief.

"Senorita Lisbon," came a woman's whisper.

Lisbon removed the chair and stepped closer to the door.

"Flora?"

"Si."

Lisbon opened the door, ushering the girl inside. She returned the chair beneath the doorknob.

"Jane and I are getting out of here tonight. Are you ready to come with us?"

She shook her head violently. "No. No, I can't!"

"Jane says Castillo beats you. Why would you want to stay with him?"

Her dark eyes filled with tears. "He will kill my family, starting with Franklin. 'Flora,' he says to me, 'if you ever leave me, I will make sure there is no one to run home to.'"

"We'll do everything we can to protect you and your family, I promise."

"You cannot, Senorita. He owns me, like he owns everyone on this island. I have made my bed, as they say, no?"

"No. You have the right not to be someone's punching bag, Flora."

"I have no choice. You are very kind and brave, Senorita, but you must go now without me, before it is too late for you and Senor Jane."

Lisbon stepped closer to the girl, put both hands gently on her shoulders. She frowned when Flora flinched, whether it was from pain or the expectation of it, Lisbon wasn't sure.

"It's not too late. Come with us."

She wanted to, Lisbon could feel her shaking with her longing to leave, saw it in her agonized brown eyes. But in the end, fear for her family outweighed her own personal safety. Flora hung her head in shame, closing her eyes against sudden tears.

"No. I am sorry, Senorita. Tell Franklin I am so very sorry. Tell my madre I love her."

And before Lisbon could stop her, Flora moved back to the door and moved the chair away.

"Vaya con Dios," she said.

Lisbon's last image of the girl would be of her anguished, tear-streaked face before the door shut quietly behind her.

"Dammit," Lisbon muttered. With a sigh of resignation, she moved the chair back in place.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon must have dozed off on the bed, for the sudden rattle of the doorknob and the successive pounding jerked her awake.

"Open the goddamn door, Teresa!" It was Jane. He must have someone with him for him to yell and curse at her so—or he'd better, if he knew what was good for him.

She removed the chair and Jane stepped inside, his face angry and annoyed, though he winked when Miguel wasn't looking. She was inordinately pleased to see that Miguel still limped slightly.

The henchman gave Lisbon such a look of hatred that Lisbon almost laughed.

"Don Cesar told me to lock you in, so this FBI cunt—"

Despite the rifle Miguel held in his hands, Jane landed a punch square in the man's face. He stumbled back a few steps in surprise, blood gushing from his nose.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," Jane said through clenched teeth. The obscenity was one Lisbon had never heard him utter before, and she found it to be particularly jarring coming from him.

Jane shut the door on the man's furious face, and a moment later, they heard a key in the lock.

"You will pay for this, Americano," he said now, with the barrier of the heavy door between them. "You and your little gringa_ puta_."

Jane turned to Lisbon, who was standing in the middle of the room, her mouth hanging open in shock. Jane grinned.

"Hi, Honey; I'm home," he quipped.

"Jesus, Jane. You want to get us both killed?"

Jane, deciding this was a rhetorical question, went past her into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him. She heard him turn on the faucet and she followed him to find him sticking his sore knuckle beneath the cold running water.

Jane hadn't known what had come over him. His actions might have killed them both, just as she had said. Seldom did he do things on mere impulse (there was usually a method to his apparent madness), but the way Miguel had looked at Lisbon—a combination of fury and lascivious intent—had pushed Jane over the edge.

"Does it always hurt this much when you punch _me_ in the nose?" he asked casually, only now getting control of his white-hot anger.

She smirked, and he glanced up to catch her expression in the mirror above him.

"Yes," she said, "but it's always worth it."

His eyes twinkled at her as he dried his hand gingerly on a small towel. She found that, despite the danger he'd put them in, she was touched by his defense of her honor. She noticed then that he'd managed to change back into one of his island shirts, suit coat and trousers, and she found she missed the silly sarong and bare skin he'd sported around the pool.

"So," he asked, coming back into the bedroom with her. "What have you been up to?"

She told him about Flora's visit, and she watched Jane's face turn sad as he thought of letting down his friend.

"Hey," Lisbon offered, "we know where Castillo's hideout is now. We'll send a team in to get him and rescue Flora—and all of the other women too."

Jane nodded, but he still looked worried. "I hope they don't get caught in the crossfire," he said glumly.

"We can't take her kicking and screaming, Jane, or none of us will get out of this thing alive. No, we should wait another hour or two until everyone is asleep, then escape into the jungle."

"Two o'clock," he said. "I heard a couple guards complaining they had the night shift, which starts at two. I figure that's our best window."

She looked sceptical. "That might give us only a minute of distraction to make our move. Maybe not even that." She didn't like those odds, or that uncertainty.

"We have to get out of here tonight, Lisbon, get back to the agents at the hotel and have them mount an invasion before Castillo moves out of here. I kept encouraging Castillo to drink, so he should sleep in quite late. Hopefully that will buy us a bit more time."

She sat on the bed in frustration. "None of this is good. What the hell was Abbot thinking, sending you alone in this?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly alone, I just sort of took it upon myself to follow my nose without giving Agent Cailly a head's up. Government types always seem to get in the way of things. I figured I'd make more headway on my own. "

"Well, you certainly did," she said dryly. "Bang-up job there. You have a whole team at your disposal and you attempted this on your own? I can't believe you took such a risk."

"Sure you can. You know me, Lisbon. Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, snapping his fingers. "I brought you something to eat."

Her eyes lit up at this. She hadn't had anything since her crappy breakfast on the plane that morning. _Had it really just been that morning?_ Her growling stomach confirmed it.

From the pockets of his suit coat, Jane drew out a small yellow fruit she'd never seen before, and a napkin full of cold boiled shrimp. She didn't even turn up her nose at the fact that it had been in his pocket. She took his offering gratefully, eating one succulent crustacean after the other, then biting into the fruit. It was juicy and sweet, and she smiled her gratitude. It was a little disconcerting, that his eyes never left her mouth.

After she ate, he joined her on the edge of the bed.

"How'd you fare in your card game with Castillo?" she asked. "You still have all your limbs, so I assume he didn't catch you cheating."

"Oh, I was the obedient guest and lost copiously." He held up his left hand to show his watch was missing. "He has all the cash Abbot supplied me with too. I hate losing, especially on purpose."

She smiled. "A very wise decision not to upset an arms dealer though."

"My conclusion exactly. But I did manage to gain something useful." He dug in his trouser pocket for a small LED flashlight, which shone much brighter than its size would indicate. "I lifted it off a guard's utility belt."

"Good. That should come in handy."

It would seem that they were as prepared as they could be, under the circumstances.

"You should try to get some sleep," he said, noting the circles of exhaustion beneath her tired green eyes.

"I won't be able to now; I'm too keyed up. Why don't you try?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're talking to Mr. Insomnia, remember?"

"Oh," she said. "I figured since Red John..."

He shrugged. "Old habits."

Jane also sincerely doubted he could sleep with her so close beside him, especially with those hot kisses by the pool still very prevalent in his mind. Even now, with her sitting on the bed, her legs and feet bare, still clad in the sexy, cleavage-enhancing black dress, he felt a sharp stab of desire. She noticed him looking at her, and to his delight, she flushed prettily.

"I couldn't get the damn thing off by myself," she told him sheepishly, wadding up the napkin.

"Oh," he said with an understanding smile. "Turn around."

She turned in her place at the end of the bed, and Jane brought his hands up to the top of her dress. She shivered as she felt one finger touch her sensitive skin all the way from her nape to her waist as he slowly dragged the zipper down.

He paused, his hand resting on her waist, and, much like she'd anticipated Miguel's bullet earlier, she waited, heart pounding, for what he might do with her bare back exposed to his gaze.

She actually heard him swallow before the warmth of his hand abruptly disappeared.

"There," he said hoarsely.

"Thanks," she said, her voice just as unsteady. _Un_zipping, she decided, especially after sharing kisses with a man, was decidedly more erotic than the zipping up had been earlier.

To cover her disconcertion, she stood and went to the bathroom, holding her dress up with one hand.

"I wish I didn't have to put these dirty clothes back on," she mumbled to herself, surveying the outfit she'd worn earlier where she'd thrown it over the shower rod. She couldn't very well go traipsing through the jungle in a tight black dress, however.

Jane had heard her soft complaint, and brought in a heather gray t-shirt.

"Here," he said. "This was in one of the drawers. It'll be a bit big on you, but at least it's clean."

She took it from him and smiled. "Thanks."

They both stood in the bathroom a moment, staring at each other, Jane's gaze lingering on the hand just above her breasts, Lisbon following the direction of his interest and blushing anew. The tension hummed in the air between them, as they each remembered what they'd done by the pool, how hot they'd become for each other in so short a time. The heated attraction had lingered, as they both imagined what might have happened had they been completely alone...like now.

"Jane," she prompted, breaking the charged silence. "I need to change."

He was still standing in the bathroom with her.

"Oh...sure."

He made himself scarce, both loving and hating the escalation of his attraction to her. They were in a dangerous situation, and while he'd never felt so alive, he had to focus, to keep his wits about him if they were to survive their escape. Hitting Miguel had been the manifestation of an innate possessiveness that had always been there, but which he'd definitely had more control over once upon a time...before they'd kissed, that is.

In a few minutes, Lisbon opened the bathroom door, much more modestly dressed in the clean t-shirt and the jeans and boots she'd worn when she'd been captured. She'd knotted the oversize shirt tightly at her waist, and when she raised her arms to roll up the baggy short sleeves, it rode up and he caught a glimpse of a toned stomach that made his mouth go dry.

_So much for focusing_, he thought wryly.

In the end, they both lay on the bed facing each other, an imaginary bundling board between them, as they talked about their upcoming escape.

"The island is about twelve miles wide," he told her. "When they discover we've gone, they'll immediately assume we've gone back the way we came and go back into the village. Instead, we head north, to the shore, then make our way back to town by following the beach. I doubt it's more than seven or eight miles to the sea from here, tops."

She cringed. "Eight miles through the jungle? Have you seen the snakes around here?"

He chuckled. "We'll do our best to avoid those. Although we might also have to get past the vampire bats, the jaguars, and a plethora of man- eating insects."

She hit him with a pillow. "Quit teasing me."

He raised an eyebrow at her. He wasn't teasing. She gulped. She was definitely a city girl, his dear Lisbon.

"We'll have a full moon, our small flashlight, and the North Star to guide us," Jane continued, bunching up his new pillow beneath his head. He watched the absent motion of her fingers tracing the palm tree pattern of the comforter. "I think we'll make it," he concluded.

"I guess we'll have no choice but to try."

He reached over and touched her arm. "I lived two years on this island, and I did my share of exploring. We'll be all right if we keep our wits about us. I'm actually more frightened of the human element once they realize we're gone."

A distinct quiet settled over the compound, and they could no longer hear the distant sounds of wakeful humanity.

When the digital clock by the bed indicated 1:45, they sat up and silently put on their shoes, Lisbon grabbing the bottled water she'd taken earlier.

"The door's locked," she reminded Jane.

"You have the key card?"

She pulled it out of her jeans pocket and handed it to him. He went to the door and slid the card between the doorjamb and the dead bolt. It was only a matter of seconds before he jimmied the door open.

"Et voila," he said with a grin.

Cautiously, he peeked out into the hallway. One of their fears had been that Castillo had placed a guard outside their door, but their luck had held, and apparently the arms dealer thought a locked door was a good enough precaution. Of course, the compound was regularly patrolled, outside cameras and an alarm system on top of that, so he had a right to be confident.

They tiptoed down the hall, mindful of the minutes ticking by. They had no way of knowing what went on with the guard change, or how vigilant Castillo's staff was. It was all very seat-of-the-pants, and it brought their heart rates up at the very real prospect that they might be discovered at any moment. They had ready excuses—they were looking for food; no one had locked them in so they assumed it was okay that they make themselves at home (neither of them had any qualms about throwing Miguel under the bus)—but discovery would mean their escape would be thwarted, at least for the night. And if Castillo didn't believe their stories, well, they might not live long enough to see the next chance of getting out of there anyway.

The halls of the large house were empty and dark, so it seemed the focus of security was indeed the outside perimeter. Jane held Lisbon's hand as she led him to the door that went outside to the gate she'd seen earlier. Twice they paused as low Spanish voices and laughter reached their ears, and they pressed their backs against the wall, pulses racing.

Jane unlocked the outside door and looked at Lisbon in the dimness, hoping against hope that no alarms would sound once they opened it. Thankfully, there was nothing, and they slipped outside and down the steps to hug the wall of the house. They slunk behind the bushes, slowly and steadily, Jane glancing up to be certain the red lights of live cameras were directed away from them. It must have been around two o'clock by then (he sorely missed his watch) and when the targeted gate was in view, he hesitated, key card in hand.

They would have to step out onto the sidewalk, in plain view of the camera pointed right at the gate. Lisbon squeezed his hand in encouragement. It was now or never. Then, from a distance, they heard a sound they hadn't counted on—dogs. Castillo must have a contingent of guard dogs to assist the human dogs he employed. He felt Lisbon's hands go cold with fear.

They made it to the gate, Jane swiping the card once. Twice-but to no avail. Lisbon took the card from his shaking hand and turned it around, swiping it slowly until the green light beneath the card reader flashed welcomingly. Still, their luck was holding and no one came to stop them, even when the gate gave an agonizing squeal as they pushed it open.

The gate closed again behind them, Jane gripped Lisbon's hand even more tightly.

"Run!" he hissed.

They fled to the sanctuary of the rainforest, just as the barking of dogs met their ears at the fence-line they'd left behind. The animals must have caught their unfamiliar scent, for they reacted with a veritable apoplexy of barking and whining.

"Probably another jaguar nearby," Jane heard Rico say in Spanish.

"Shut up, you stupid animals!" said Miguel in annoyance, and there was a brief bark of pain as he likely tugged on the poor dog's leash too hard.

_Bastard,_ thought Jane.

Soon they were swallowed up by the jungle, and they could hear Castillo's men no more.

The rainforest at night was just as noisy as in the day, with the calls of night birds and the singing of frogs and insects almost deafening. Jane and Lisbon ran in the direction Jane assumed was north, not stopping until they were out of breath. Very little moonlight seeped down through the tall canopy of the trees, so when Jane felt they'd gotten safely away, he clicked on the small flashlight. Various eyes shone red in the night, and Lisbon stepped instinctively closer to Jane.

Even without the sun, the air was sweltering, and, combined with their frantic exertions, they could both feel the annoying discomfort of sweat running down their skin beneath their clothes. Jane took off his jacket to find some relief, and they trod along, stepping over fallen trees and ducking beneath vines in their path. When he'd gone into the jungle before, he'd carried a machete, which he'd used to cut away the thick foliage, so it was much slower going now without that valuable tool.

Lisbon, fearful that every vine might actually be a snake, was unusually useless, clinging to him in fear, gasping and shrieking softly as palm fronds slapped her in the face, or a jungle owl hooted beside them unexpectedly. He'd only caught occasional glimpses of this side of her over the years, and while then he'd found it endearing when she was frightened of harmless things like deer, now, he was becoming increasingly annoyed.

"Lisbon," he said harshly, after his flashlight had illuminated a green boa constrictor sliding lazily across their path, likely in pursuit of some nocturnal rodent. She'd grabbed his arm and yelped, hiding her face against his bicep.

He wasn't at all used to seeing her like this. She was usually the stronger one, the braver, while he ran away from pissed off suspects he'd offended, or hidden from explosions or gunfire. His tone immediately softened, and he stopped in the middle of the jungle, disentangling her hands from her vicelike grip on his arm.

"Teresa, look at me."

He directed the flashlight just to the left of his face so she could see him. Her eyes were wide and frightened in the moonlight, and his earlier annoyance turned instantly to gentle protectiveness.

"I know this is a scary place, but we have to get through it. The more you tense up and overreact, the slower going this is going to be. And if Castillo catches us, you'll prefer death by boa constrictor by the time he's through with you, believe me."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaky and breathless. "This is definitely out of my comfort zone."

"I know. I'm not a big fan of the jungle either, but right now we should think of it as our friend-hiding us, masking the sounds of our escape. And maybe if we make enough noise ourselves, any creepy crawlies will get out of our way, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes huge in her white, elfin face. On impulse, he grasped her small chin and lowered his mouth to hers. Her breath hitched in surprise, but as his lips slowly molded to hers, she forgot about the unknown dangers surrounding them, her heartbeat in her ears drowning out the cacophony of the nighttime creatures surrounding them. All she could sense in those brief moments was the heady taste of his tongue in her mouth, the faint scent of clean sweat, the warmth of his hand on her chin, and the sound of his soft moan as she passionately kissed him back.

He raised his head reluctantly, smiling a little at her dumbstruck expression.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded. She did feel calmer now, even a little less afraid, though her heart slammed against her breast for a totally different reason.

"Good. I thought about slapping you out of it, but I figured you'd probably karate chop me or something and then neither of us would be able to get out of here."

She smiled, as he'd intended. "Wise decision," she commended him dryly.

"Thank you." He held out a sweeping hand toward the forest ahead of them. "Shall we?"

"After you," she said politely, and she gripped his hand anew.

**A/N: Aw, nothing like jungle love, eh? More of that to come. Now, back to waterbaby. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**P.S.: In case you missed it, I wrote an M-rated one-shot in honor of starry19's birthday, entitled, "I'm Really Here." Please check it out! :)Donnamour1969**


	7. Chapter 7

**There's not much case development in this chapter. I'll admit that right now. But there's plenty of other fun stuff to enjoy in it. Or at least I think so.**

**On that note, an 'M' rating applies towards the end. You have been warned.**

**Chapter 7**

On and on they trudged through the jungle. With only fleeting glimpses of the moon and stars through the dense canopy, and no watch, they had no accurate way of telling the time, and were pinning all their hopes on Jane's self-professed sense of direction. They could be walking straight back into Castillo's clutches for all they knew, the vegetation so thick and the darkness so complete, there was no way of identifying any landmarks to check they were still on the right track.

Lisbon was doing her best to keep quiet, but couldn't help shuddering at the sounds of rustling leaves just to the left of them. Jane had been right; her irrational fears had served no purpose other than to slow them down. While his chosen method of therapy hadn't exactly solved the problem, it had certainly helped. Now, she was too busy reliving that amazing kiss to worry as much about the hidden horrors of the jungle.

He'd picked the perfect distraction. Not only had he managed to drive her fears right out of her head, he'd also left her gagging for more. If he'd wanted to take her right there and then on the jungle floor, she probably would have let him. Instead, he'd simply turned and walked on, and she'd followed, tingling all over with desire.

She watched him picking his way through the undergrowth a little way ahead of her. For once, it had seemed like the more prudent choice to let him take the lead. He certainly knew this area better than she did, and she'd certainly proven by now that she was better suited to a concrete jungle, as opposed to this kind. By contrast, Jane seemed to be reasonably adept in this environment, and confident enough in his own ability to get them out safely. She had no choice but to trust that he was right about this, too.

"Watch your step," he warned her, quietly. "There's a bit of a dip here." He held out his hand to her, which she impatiently waved away. She may not be a nature girl after all, but she'd like to think she had at least mastered the art of walking.

"I'm not an invalid, Jane," she said.

She stepped down from the rock she was standing on, but stumbled on the slippery moss covering it. She found herself pitching violently forward and landing clumsily in his arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment as she tried to catch her breath.

"I hate this," she complained. "I hate nature."

There was something about the utter defeat in her voice that made him smile at her, affectionately. "You're really not cut out for this, are you?" he said.

"Are you kidding? I'm having the time of my life here," she replied, and he chuckled softly in her ear. It was a low, breathy sort of sound, and the sheer pleasure of hearing it made her tingle all over again. His breath caressed her skin like a soft kiss. God, his lips looked delicious…

"How much further?" she asked as he hastily released her. She got the impression that he was trying not to prolong any contact between them any more than necessary. The sudden intimacy they'd discovered over the past twelve hours must have been getting to him too.

"Just a bit further and then we'll take a breather," he said. "I just want to make sure we put plenty of distance between us and those dogs. And it wouldn't hurt if we could find some water to walk through to throw them off the scent."

"Great," she said, sardonically. Tired, hungry, scared to death, sexually frustrated, and now she was going to be wet too. Just when she thought this trip couldn't get any worse. She found herself longing for her apartment back in Texas. A day in bed, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other sounded like heaven right now.

"We'll take a break soon, I promise," he said. "By my reckoning I think it's around four am. We'll stop for half an hour or so, but I want to be as far away as possible before daybreak."

_Smack. _The sound of Lisbon's hand hitting some part of her exposed flesh rang out again. The mosquitos were eating her alive; he could already see several lumps rising on her arms and legs where she'd been bitten.

"Do I have a sign on me offering an all-you-can-eat buffet or something?" she said, irritably, wiping the remnants of the insect off her hands in disgust. "How come they aren't biting you?"

"Obviously I don't taste as good as you."

"Funny."

Jane couldn't exactly blame the mosquitos for their interest in Lisbon. After all, her ivory skin looked so satiny and flawless under the moonlight he wouldn't have minded taking a little nip at it himself. He sensed however, that she was in no mood for such sentiments, and so pressed on.

They must have been walking for hours now. Around them, the jungle teemed with creatures unseen, but he suspected the sounds of their footsteps, intermingled with his partner's constant stream of complaints, kept anything from crossing their path. He didn't anticipate their absence would be noticed until well after the sun rose, but he kept an ear out just in case for any sounds out of the ordinary. Castillo would be furious at being betrayed, and he knew the arms dealer would be relentless in hunting them down. A twig snapped behind him and he whirled around at once, only to discover it had only been Lisbon, continuing her one-woman assault on the natural world. He sighed in relief, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"A little jumpy there, aren't you, Tarzan?" she said.

He was just about to retort when he became aware of a new sound in the jungle cacophony. It was a soft, continuous rushing sound, like running water. But they hadn't passed any rivers, nor seen any evidence of one.

"Do you hear that?" he asked her, and without waiting for a reply, plunged off through the vegetation in the direction of the sound. Water was just what they needed right now; they were both sweating copiously and probably dehydrated, (their shared bottle of water long since run dry) as well as exhausted. He didn't think they could go much further without taking a break, and as long as they kept it brief, he didn't think they'd lose a lot of time.

Still grumbling about snakes and bugs and mosquitos, Lisbon trotted after him, letting out a small yelp as her hair got tangled in a spider web.

"You better not be getting us lost, Jane," she said. "I may not have a gun right now, but I can still punch you in the nose. Or else I could-"

The rest of Lisbon's threat went unheard as they rounded a large bush and the source of the noise became apparent. They'd stumbled across a clearing, crowned by a magnificent, sparkling waterfall. The gushing water fell into a deep pool below which was surrounded by lush tropical flowers and small shrubs.

Behind him, Lisbon caught her breath as they approached it, and he could understand why. This little piece of paradise was the last thing he'd ever expect to find buried deep in the jungle, and he could see no sign of human presence ever having been here. It was quite possible that the only people to even know of its existence were himself and Lisbon. That was a humbling thought.

"It's beautiful." Lisbon had come to stand beside him, gazing around in wide-eyed wonder at the scene, and without thinking, he took her hand, and laced their fingers together.

"Mother Nature got this place right," he agreed. He gave her hand a gentle tug, to pull her along with him. This seemed like a safe enough place to have their rest stop. On the far side of the pool was a kind of platform of rock, set against the overhang of a cliff. It would provide them with some shelter at the very least, even if the solid rock wouldn't make for the most comfortable place to rest. They sank down onto it, groaning, their limbs aching from all the walking.

Lisbon's whole body seemed to sigh with relief as she sat down; her arms and legs had been screaming in protest for the last hour or so, and the sweat from her exertion was making her T-shirt and jeans stick to her in a most unpleasant manner. She longed to take them off and let the cool spray of the waterfall get to her hot skin, but didn't quite dare with Jane watching. Instead she raised her arms skywards in a long, luxurious stretch, feeling her tense muscles loosen slightly. It wasn't as good as the bath she'd been daydreaming about, but it would do in the meantime.

"Do you think that water is safe to drink?" she asked. The pool winked invitingly back at her in the moonlight. Cool, clean water. How she'd love to just immerse herself in it.

Beside her, Jane shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I can't see any reason why it wouldn't be, but I don't claim to be a survival expert. There could even be piranhas in there for all I know." He passed his LED light over the surface of the dark water. "I don't see anything," he said, clicking it off. "But that doesn't mean there isn't anything in there. Best not to risk it."

Lisbon flinched at the idea of their peaceful haven being secretly inhabited by vicious, man-eating fish and suddenly lost her enthusiasm for swimming. Instead, she let out a great sigh and lay back on the rocky outcrop and closed her eyes.

"Don't get too comfortable," he warned her. "We're not staying here long."

An eye cracked open. "I couldn't get comfortable even if I wanted to," she said. "How well can _you_ sleep on solid rock?"

"About as well as I can sleep anywhere else," he said.

Through the gaps in the canopy, Lisbon could see a few stars glimmering faintly and the luminous orb of the moon. A breath of wind whistled through the trees, and the soothing sounds of the waterfall were in great danger of lulling her to sleep. This part of the jungle she found she didn't mind so much. She could almost forget the vengeful criminal crew they were running from, and the trouble waiting for her when she returned to Texas. Here, surrounded by all this natural beauty, those things seemed a million miles away.

Jane was sitting beside her with his back against the cliff-face, twirling the LED light around in his fingers and gazing moodily in to the water. The moonlight cast a soft luminescence over his face, and she found herself appreciating once again that he too, was something of a work of art. God had spared no expense on Patrick Jane.

She watched those deft fingers spinning the light around and around, and remembered how they'd felt against her skin. Gentle, but wanting, leaving what felt like trails of fire wherever they touched. The way he'd held her during their poolside kiss, like he never wanted to let her go.

If only there hadn't been so many witnesses, who knew what might have happened next?

But they were alone now. Out of reach of Abbot and the FBI, and hopefully with Castillo yet to notice their absence, there was not another soul on the planet who knew where they were right now. At the office, Abbot, Fischer, ringing phones and murder, endless murder, constantly interrupted any time they ever spent together. Sometimes entire days could pass without them seeing one another.

He was frowning at the water now, and her fingers twitched with the effort of not reaching out to smooth the frown lines from his beautiful face. Even now, with Red John becoming nothing more than a painful memory, he still didn't smile enough. Sometimes she wondered if he had simply forgotten how to _be_ happy. If only he'd let her take care of him for once, instead of walling himself off, maybe she could remind him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Thinking about Flora," he said, softly. "How am I supposed to face Franklin now I've left her there?"

She inched across the rock until she was sitting close beside him. "It wasn't your fault." She too, felt some guilt at leaving the girl to her fate, but short of kidnapping her and forcing her to accompany them, there wasn't anything else they could have done. But she knew that if something happened to Flora now, it would simply become another cross for Jane to bear.

"We should have tried harder," he said. "Talked some sense into her."

"All that would have achieved would be to frighten her more," Lisbon pointed out. "And make Castillo suspicious."

Jane gave a tiny nod, acknowledging that she was right, but didn't seem interested in discussing the matter any further. He didn't have to anyway; she could already tell what was going through his head. Guilt. Fear. Anger.

She slipped her hand into his again, felt his fingers curl around hers in response. If she were braver, she would have leaned in to whisper words of comfort in his ear or wrap her arms around him. She chased down criminals with ease, went into dark, horrible places without a backwards look, but when it came to showing him how much she cared, she had never been very brave. That was the reason why kissing him had been so exciting and yet so frightening at the same time. For the first time, she hadn't held anything back.

"Try not to dwell on it anymore," she said. "Whatever happens now is out of our hands. We just have to trust that Flora keeps her head down and stays safe until we can go and get her."

In the silence between them that followed, the sounds of the jungle at night kept a constant refrain. The air was heavy and humid, and smelled of the fragrant flowers surrounding their pool. The feeling of her sweaty clothes was becoming unbearable now, and the sparkling waterfall drew her gaze like a steaming cup of coffee in the early morning. They'd be traipsing through the jungle again before long, why should she deny herself this glorious relief while it was available?

He looked puzzled when she got to her feet, and walked away from him. Even more so when she stopped a few paces away from the edge of the rocky platform and removed her shoes and socks. What did he think she was doing, going to dangle her feet in the water as potential piranha bait?

She hesitated when it came to removing her clothes. It would be wonderful to peel her sweat-soaked t-shirt from her body, to free her legs from these god- awful jeans for a few minutes. But she generally wasn't the type to take her clothes off in front of a man unless she planned on sleeping with him, and that wasn't on the agenda today, what with all the excitement of escaping a criminal compound. Not that she'd be _opposed_ to the idea of course.

Oh, she was being ridiculous. They were both adults weren't they? And it wasn't as if she was going to be naked. A bra and panties were essentially the same as a bikini after all. Besides, if he had some kind of problem with it, he didn't_ have_ to look.

Though she kind of hoped he would.

Almost defiantly, she pulled off her jeans and T-shirt, and stepped under the spray.

The feeling of the cool water was so delicious she felt her eyes close involuntarily, the better to focus on the sensation. Her hair was soaked through in an instant but she didn't care; she could have stood there all night. She felt as though some of the stress and the worry of the past few days were being cleansed from her, simply washed away.

Jane had been watching her out of the corner of his eye. He'd smiled to himself as she'd obviously battled with the decision of whether to undress or not, her good Catholic sensibilities at odds with the desire to make herself feel better. He had to admit, he was pleased to see that the darker side had won out. He wondered if she'd registered the moan of pure ecstasy that had escaped her when she'd stepped under the waterfall. He'd never heard her make that kind of sound before, as though she'd never experienced such intense pleasure. He wondered if she made that sound while making love, and suddenly the hot air around him felt a hundred times hotter, and his pants a lot tighter.

She didn't help matters when she finally made her way back over to him again, squeezing the excess water from her hair, her skin glistening in the moonlight. Errant beads of water gleamed all over her slender figure, leaving sparkling little trails along her collarbone and the gentle curve of her hips.

While he'd been growing up, he'd enjoyed thumbing through his father's old copy of _The Odyssey_. He could only imagine this was how Odysseus must have felt when he'd first beheld the beautiful nymph Calypso. The temptation to take her into his arms must have been overwhelming, but his loyalty to his family weighed heavily on his mind.

Jane found he sympathized with the fictional Ithacan king. Whether she'd purposely been trying to get his attention or not, she'd succeeded in doing so. He couldn't have taken his eyes off her if Castillo and a hundred armed goons had burst into the clearing there and then.

She was smiling at him when she reached him. He was trying to remember how to breathe again.

"You should really try that," she advised him, whipping her wet hair over her shoulder to dry. "You'll feel better."

"We have to be moving on soon."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. But it's incredibly refreshing."

She gathered up her discarded clothes. The hot jungle air was drying her fast. Soon she'd be stepping back into her jeans, slipping back on the T-shirt. It seemed such a shame for her to cover her beautiful self up. The natural beauty of their surroundings paled in comparison.

There was nothing covert about the way he was watching her now. He was openly ogling her, and could tell she knew it. Even though she'd averted her eyes, he could see a tiny blush rising on her cheeks. She was self-conscious in her movements too, pulling her fingers through her hair as a makeshift comb, but he rather thought she was enjoying the attention. He was certainly enjoying the view.

When she'd pulled her clothes back on, she finally met his eyes. They were full of desire, questioning, and hope.

"_What next, Jane?" _they seemed to ask. _"Your move."_

* * *

Cesar Castillo slept the sleep of the dead, loud snores rumbling throughout the master bedroom of the compound. Beside him, Flora watched his paunchy stomach rise and fall with distaste. What a grim life she had chosen, and all for the sake of some pretty jewels and the chance to travel. She had paid a high price for those small luxuries, but she would happily trade them all for the chance to be with her family again.

The worst part, just hours ago she'd had the chance, and she'd blown it. The idea of escaping with Senor Jane and Teresa had filled her with an equal mix of excitement and fear. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place, but she knew better than anyone what Castillo could do when angered. If he thought she had betrayed him, if he caught them…they wouldn't live to see the morning.

She wasn't brave like those Americanos. She was a coward, a fool. Her father would turn in his grave if he ever knew what she had become. She'd thrown away all of her dreams to be Cesar Castillo's little whore.

There'd been a disturbance at around two am, some of the dogs had begun to bark hysterically, and she knew that meant they were making their move. Castillo, still drunk after his card game with Senor Jane, slept on, but she'd moved to the window, listening closely for any sign that they'd been caught. But there were no shouts of surprise or discovery, no gunshots, and nobody had been dragged back to the compound. The dogs quietened, and peace was restored. They must have made it out.

It was a fair walk to get back into town; they'd have to push hard to make it by daybreak, but Flora had every faith that they would. She wasn't sure of the exact nature of the relationship between them, but she knew that it had not been mere coincidence that had brought them both here. Something about the way they moved with each other, seamless, flowing, as though they'd been doing it all their lives. And the lingering look and kiss she'd seen them exchange by the pool yesterday afternoon, it was the kind of way a man should gaze at the one he loved. Did she not hold such fears for the safety, the romance of it all would have made her smile.

When Castillo woke, he would search for Senor Jane, having taken such a liking to him. When he couldn't find him, he would raise the alarm. She knew it would happen. She could not stop it.

But perhaps she could organise breakfast in bed for him this morning, pleasure him a while, anything to delay him from getting out of bed. It might just give Teresa and Senor Jane the extra few minutes they'd need to get help.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, shrugging on a satin robe. The bedroom door was locked, as Castillo preferred it to be, with the key on a chain around his neck. She could understand his desire for caution, he was a man who had made many enemies, but this habit did nothing for her other than make her feel even more like his prisoner. In her bolder moments, she had thought about attempting to steal that key from his neck, and make a run for it, but her nerve had always failed her. Senor Jane, with his nimble fingers and cleverness could probably achieve such a task with ease, but she wasn't talented like him, or brave like Teresa.

In the bathroom, she pulled a brush through her hair, and splashed some clean water on her face. Castillo always liked her to look her best, even first thing in the morning. Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch at the thought of having to sleep with him again, she always spent the whole time lying still and imagining she were somewhere else. Nevertheless, she reached for some body lotion and began to rub it into her skin, in preparation. Her duties to Castillo had always been clear; stay quiet, look beautiful, and give herself to him whenever he wanted her. It made her hate herself, made her feel dirty and cheap, but she had done it before, and she would again. Her hand closed briefly around the rosary beads she always kept in her pocket. Her mother had given them to her when she had been a little girl. She prayed the two Americans would reach their goal and bring help before it was too late, and that Castillo would not discover she'd had knowledge of the plan.

Wherever they were, she prayed they were safe, and succeeding. It was all she could do for them now. She had to stay alive until they made it back.

When she emerged from the bathroom, the slumbering figure of Castillo was beginning to stir. It would not be long before he woke, and if she weren't in bed beside him when he did, he'd want to know why. Steeling her resolve, she slipped under the covers next to him, and waited.

* * *

"We should get going." Lisbon felt her heart sink as the words left Jane's mouth. "We still have a bit of ground to cover."

She sighed. She'd been expecting this kind of answer, but still the disappointment was significant. It seemed that any relationship with Jane she was to have would be limited to those wonderful kisses they'd shared over the past two days. She had put herself out there as much as her conscience would allow. She was sure he knew how she felt about him, knew she wanted more for them, and she thought he wanted it too. But he had to show her or better yet, _tell_ her. She'd be his until the end of her days if he'd let her, but she needed some confirmation that she wasn't setting herself up for a fall.

"You're right," she said, turning away. He _was _right. He was always right. Time was not on their side tonight, and they'd lingered in this clearing too long already. She tried not to let him see her disappointment. All these near misses were tearing her up inside. She wasn't asking much from him, just some kind of signal that she wasn't holding on to a lost cause. This never-ending dance of would they, wouldn't they was playing havoc with her heart.

Not to mention her sex drive.

She turned her head away from him, and he spotted the red mark from where Castillo had held the knife to her throat. It wasn't deep, and would probably fade in time, but he still felt furious just seeing it.

"How's your neck?" he asked, in as neutral a tone as he could muster. She touched her finger to the mark in some surprise; he suspected she'd forgotten about it until now.

"Fine," she said. "It was barely a scratch."

"He should never have touched you." He hoped that when next they met, Castillo would still be alive enough for him to punch him in the face for that particular atrocity.

"He could have done much worse," she pointed out. "And probably would have if he hadn't been so concerned about upsetting his new best friend." She gestured toward him with a shadow of a smile.

"I was playing a part," he said, easily. "I don't need any more friends, and certainly not friends like him."

"You seemed to be getting along pretty well when I arrived."

Never would Jane claim to be a righteous man, but to hear her lump him in with a murderer and criminal put a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, he had spent some time meditating on the similarities between himself and Castillo, but it was somehow even more painful to have her notice it too. She'd always been the one to tell him he was more than just a man who'd lost everything. She'd always encouraged him to want more out of life than the death of his enemy and an early grave. Her stubborn, almost foolish, faith in him had kept him on the right path. He'd never really thanked her for that, he realized now.

"You don't really see me that way, do you?" he couldn't help asking.

She sank back down onto the stone with a sigh of resignation. "Flashes of it, sometimes," she said, apologetically. "Not so much now, but in the Red John era, there'd be moments when I thought I might be losing you. But even though it took you a while, and you hurt me badly sometimes, I always got you back eventually."

"Why did you come after me?" he asked, presently. "If you knew I was coming back?"

She chuckled, but without much humour. "I got sick of being the damsel in distress. The princess can't sit around dutifully forever and wait for the prince to come home. At some stage she has to go track him down herself and kick his ass back to the FBI."

"I always said you were an angry little princess."

He held out a hand to help her up again, which she accepted, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her skin was still cool to the touch from the icy waterfall, and he could feel the tiny skipping sensation of her pulse. He wondered how much of that he was responsible for.

"Did I make the right decision, coming after you?" She seemed reluctant to ask that question, keeping her gaze away from his in embarrassment.

"I never wanted to be responsible for putting you in danger again, but I missed you every moment until you turned up."

"Welcome to the last twelve years of my life," she said. "Sometimes I want to throw you back into that detention suite myself, just so I know where you'll be, and that you'll be safe."

He knew he could never really understand everything he'd put her through, even if she tried to explain it. She would never consciously admit how much he had hurt her by dancing in and out of her life the way he had. All he could do was guess.

"I don't plan on leaving you again," he said. "If that helps you at all." He hoped she'd read between the lines of that particular statement. She was the only thing in the world to him

When she turned to him again, her eyes were full of sadness. She wished she could believe him, but past experience wouldn't allow her to.

"We'll see," she said. "Come on, we need to get going."

"I mean it." He grabbed her hand again, stopping her from walking any further away. "Trust me."

Her free hand traced the side of his face. "I want to." Her voice was as soft as a whisper. "You have no idea how much." Her fingers were gentle like feathers against his skin. "But I need more than your words, Jane." The hand was removed from his face. The other slipped from his grasp.

"Let me show you."

Cupping her face between his hands, he drew her towards him for what was supposed to be a brief, tender kiss. But even after trudging through the jungle all day, her lips were soft and inviting, and when he started kissing them he found he couldn't stop, at least until she jerked her head away.

"That isn't going to work this time," she said, seeming not to notice her arms coming to rest around his neck. "You can't just kiss me into silence."

He accepted that challenge, and kissed her again, slowly, deeply, trying to tell her everything he'd always been too cowardly to say out loud. She was the best of his life; leaving her had nearly killed him. He could get through anything if she was by his side. If she ever gave up on him, all hope for him would be lost.

She resisted for longer than he'd expected her to; he gave her that. But at some point her resolve seemed to break, she collapsed against him, and she began to kiss him back. He could feel the heat of her body through his thin clothing, the fine film of sweat that had begun to form on her skin despite the cold shower under the waterfall. Her heart was slamming against her chest, and she let out another soft moan that sent shivers down his spine to the tip of his toes.

Her hands were playing with the little curls at the back of his neck. He'd never guessed before today that she had such a thing for his hair. His fingers were at the neck of her T-shirt now, nudging it aside, wanting to touch, to experience. She made a small noise of protest, and shifted herself slightly so they were not able to creep under the fabric. He parted their lips.

"Oh no." Her voice was breathy and small, as though she'd had all the air sucked out of her. "Don't stop."

He kissed her again, deeper still. She accepted it willingly, but once again managed to dodge it when his fingers began to play with her clothes.

"You're kind of giving me mixed messages, here," he complained. Her knees buckled, and she fell against him as he began to kiss her neck in exactly the right spot, which he'd discovered by the pool at Castillo's.

"We can't do this." The words came out in short, sharp gasps, pleasure fogging her brain as his lips tickled her sensitive skin.

"Isn't this what you want?"

"Yes." She more sighed the word than said it, and he wasn't sure if it was true assent or simply appreciation for what he was doing to her. His tongue traced her earlobe and he felt her whole body react. Her arms withdrew from around his neck and fell on his shirt buttons instead, teasing them open, one by one.

"Then, what's wrong?"

She paused, and forced his head to turn so she could gaze deep into his eyes.

"If we do this, I'll never get over you," she whispered. "I'll never be able to be with anyone else again."

It didn't matter if Jane was the single best lover on the planet, she couldn't do this if it wasn't going to mean anything to him tomorrow. It would mean offering up the only piece of herself he hadn't already taken, and closing the door on any other options she might have had.

"Good," he said. "Because I don't plan to see you with anyone else again. I want you, all of you. Let me prove it to you."

When he kissed her again, this time she had no hesitation in kissing him back. Together, they sunk down onto the rocky ground, he fell back against it, and felt her warm weight on top of him. This time his hands found the bottom of her T-shirt, still clinging to her damp skin. His fingers crept under it, peeling it from her body, slowly exposing it inch by glorious inch. He dropped kiss after kiss on the creamy paleness he found there, starting from her navel and working his way up.

"Aargh!" Pain shot through his back, and forced him to cease his steady worship of her body.

"What's wrong?" She'd been busily undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, letting him kiss her all over.

"Rock." He could feel the offending object digging into his spine, and shifted around in an attempt to dislodge it. "Whoever designed this place didn't do it with sex in mind."

She giggled, and kissed him yet again. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," she said. "Come on."

He was somewhat bemused to feel her body part company with his as she stood up again. By the time he'd sat up, she'd reached the edge of the moonlit pool, and was cautiously dipping a toe in the water.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, half–expecting piranhas to start ripping her flesh from her bones at any second. But nothing disturbed the surface of the water.

"Probably," she said, and jumped in. The pool was deeper than he'd expected, she was submerged completely for a moment before she broke the surface again, treading water, and shaking water droplets from her hair. A minute later, her soaking wet jeans flew over his head.

"Are you coming?" she asked him, smiling seductively. "Or am I going to have to take care of the rest myself?"

He took care to keep eye contact with as he slowly divested himself of his shirt and pants. She wasn't the only one who could tease, after all. Then, he too slid into the water. Immediately he felt her wrap herself around him, her strong legs around his waist, her arms around his neck again. She nibbled at his bottom lip and nipped at his neck as he relieved her of her bra and tossed that away too.

"Last chance to back out." Her voice was warm in his ear.

"Not on your life."

She had to unwrap herself from him in order to allow him to peel away her panties, and to remove his boxer shorts. Naked, skin to skin for the very first time, was a feeling both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. She could feel him, hard against her, and knew it wasn't just the icy water that was making her skin prickle. She kissed him until her lungs gave out, until she was panting with the need for air.

Gradually, he backed up against the edge of the pool. Here, the water was slightly shallower, and when she entwined herself around him again, he was able to lift her out of the water slightly and with considerable ease. Despite the heat in the air, she immediately shivered, and felt goose bumps rising on her arms. Though that could have been for other reasons as well.

He hesitated for a moment, as though not quite sure what to do next, or whether he even dared. In fact, he hesitated so long, that she growled with impatience, and bucked her hips against him.

It was slow, and languid at first. Though she moaned with delight as he entered her, and pleasure flooded all her senses, still she felt as though she was being short-changed. He moved in and out of her at such a frustratingly slow pace it made her want to scream for all the wrong reasons. She hadn't waited all this time for lazy lovemaking. There'd be time for that later. Tonight, she wanted it fast, hard, passionate, and _now_.

"You don't have to hold back," she managed to gasp, clutching his shoulders, feeling her fingernails digging into his flesh. "You won't break me."

She wasn't sure which of them was more relieved when his pace immediately quickened. She was sandwiched between him and the pool's edge, but she made sure he knew was on the right track, with a long, drawn-out moan and a scream of his name.

She just had time to appreciate how naturally 'Patrick' rather than 'Jane' had seemed to come to her lips before her body began begging for release. They found it together, and she fell against him again, spent, but after wanting him so long, finally, deliciously, satisfied.

"Oh God, Patrick," she panted, voice cracking with the effort. "I love you."

He pressed his lips to her neck again, briefly. "Not as much as I love you, Teresa. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

It took them a while before either was able to speak again, but Jane was the first to find his voice.

"This wasn't how I pictured this happening."

She laughed. "It isn't?"

"In my head, there was usually a bed, or at least a couch, involved."

She traced a pattern on his chest with her finger. "There's probably some to spare at Castillo's place," she said. "Should we go back and ask?"

Jane pressed a series of butterfly kisses across her collarbone and shoulderblade. "You do realise we just wasted our valuable head start, don't you?"

"And I have to say I don't feel as guilty about it as I should," she admitted. "How far away are we from the beach now, do you think?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a mile. But that's just a guess."

She looked up at the sky. It had taken on the deep blue colour that heralded the approaching sunrise. Though it pained her to have to leave their romantic sanctuary, she knew they had to go.

"We've got a job to finish," she said. "We owe it to Flora, and all the other women too."

After one last, lingering kiss, they removed themselves from the pool, and dressed again. Her underwear was soaked through, but she found it was a small price to pay.

"We have to get our heads back in the game now," Jane said, retrieving his trusty light from a rock. "We still have an arms dealer to stop…and an FBI task force to placate."

"What are you going to tell them?" she asked, curiously. "When they ask where you've been all this time?"

"The truth," he said, calmly. "I was wining and dining Castillo and then making love to you. I'm sure they'll understand. What could go wrong?"

**If you've read other fics by Donna and I, you probably knew this chapter (or something like it) was coming. I'm still a novice when it comes to M rated writing but I try to keep it fresh and tasteful. Hope you enjoyed it, and my good friend, the very talented Donna is up next!**

**By the way, please forgive the reference to _The Odyssey. _My ancient history nerd is showing. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Once more, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Now that things have calmed down at work, hopefully I will be able to write more prolifically. Thanks for your patience. I hope this chapter can stand up to waterbaby's last one, that this is worth the wait.

**Chapter 8**

It took everything in Jane not to stay by that waterfall and explore the delights of Lisbon's body. It hadn't been nearly enough time, hadn't been light enough to clearly see what his hands and mouth had mapped of her taut muscles beneath soft skin. And so, despite their desperation to get back to town before the bad guys discovered them missing, he stopped often to pull her into his arms and press her back against the nearest mangrove tree, kissing her soundly until they were both breathless, their blood pumping with desire.

The third time he did that, Lisbon pushed gently against his chest, loving the feel of his pounding heart beneath her hand. She could hardly believe she had this much power over the always-in-control Patrick Jane.

"Hey, lover boy," she said, trying to turn from his heated lips. "We're almost there."

She felt his wicked smile—against her neck now. "Really? All I've done is kiss you."

She laughed rather breathlessly. "No! Can't you smell the...the sea?"

"Nothing smells more delicious than this exact spot behind your left ear," he murmured, and she shivered despite the oppressive heat.

Her hands moved to his shoulders as he laved her earlobe with his warm tongue, whereupon she tried valiantly not to melt into the jungle floor.

"Seriously...we have to keep moving."

In answer to that, he _moved _his hips more determinedly against her, so she could feel how much he wanted her. His hands _moved _to cup her breasts, and his lips _moved_ back to her mouth when she gasped.

The morning cacophony of the rainforest nearly drowned out the distant humming at first, and Jane and Lisbon were so involved in their own sensual world that nothing seemed to penetrate the loud pounding of their pulses in their ears.

Then the helicopter hovered right above them.

The tops of the trees began to sway madly with the proximity to the spinning rotors, and the animals nearby cried out and fled in fright. Jane and Lisbon dropped to their knees behind the tree, straining to see if the helicopter was looking for them. When the first shots came from a turret on the machine's underbelly, Jane instinctively pushed her down to the ground, covering her body with his own.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Lisbon.

"Close," said Jane, yelling above the deafening motor. "Castillo!"

He grabbed her hand and they ran, while bullets whizzed past their heads, ripping apart giant palm fronds and splitting small trees in half. Above them, the helicopter followed their progress, giving them no choice but to go back into the jungle, in the opposite direction of the sea.

"We should split up," said Lisbon. "Two targets—"

"No way," said Jane. "I know a place we can hide. That ravine we passed."

He pulled her through the thickening foliage, which had actually started to thin the closer they'd gotten to the sea. The occupants of the helicopter must have lost sight of them, for thankfully, the shooting stopped. They ran for several minutes, the menacing spectre hovering somewhere above them, no doubt trying to get a bead on their location. They both expected a volley of gunfire to rain down on them at any moment.

When Jane stopped suddenly, Lisbon slammed into his back, almost sending them both teetering over the edge into the steep ravine.

"Sorry," she said, her breath puffing out shakily with her exertion.

She stepped to his side to peer down into the darkness of what wasn't much more than a rocky crack in the jungle floor. It was nearly concealed on both sides by a thick covering of ferns, but they could hear the faint trickling of water far below where a stream must run. She shivered, imagining what sort of wild beasts might call the place home.

"You're not seriously suggesting we go down in there?" she said, not even bothering to hide her horror.

"It might offer some protection until they give up and leave." They both knew this was wishful thinking.

The sudden barrage of machine gun fire decided for them. Without further hesitation, Jane climbed down into the crevasse, his feet slipping a bit on the damp rocks. He found a natural ledge embedded into the side of the ravine and managed to stand without much difficulty. When he looked up through the ferns, he was dismayed to see she hadn't followed him, but was cowering behind another mangrove, the trunk above her head riddled with bullet holes.

He held out his hands.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, forcing a calm into his voice he didn't feel.

The helicopter was coming around for another pass.

Lisbon squatted and looked down at him skeptically.

"Climb down," he said. "I'll help you. It's not far."

Lisbon looked up at the swaying trees, heard the swishing of the rotors that heralded the helicopter's return, and for the second time in her life, she trusted Jane to catch her.

When her body slid down to his, Jane lost his precarious footing on the rocks and they both fell against the sides of the ravine, each of them grunting in pain as they slammed into hard rock. He grabbed desperately for the roots of the mangrove that protruded into the crevasse, pulling both of them further beneath the overhanging rocks. He held her tightly with one arm as they waited for the attack to begin again.

When it came, it was from the twin rockets Lisbon had seen mounted beneath the helicopter. This was the property of an arms dealer; of course Castillo's toys would be armed to the teeth. The small rockets launched with an evil hiss, the ground shaking from the explosions around them. Their eyes filled with the dirt shaken loose by the impact. Jane pushed her further against the wall of the crevasse, as rocks and soil began tumbling down from above, then splashing into the water below. One jagged stone grazed Jane on the side of his temple, but he held fast to a large root as they swayed a little toward the narrow opening and the unknown drop to the water. Jane just managed to push them back against the relative safety of the wall.

The helicopter, having released most of its arsenal, remained hovering above them, hoping perhaps to have flushed them out. The heavy odor of smoking green foliage mixed with ozone burned their nostrils, and Lisbon turned her face into his shirt.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice unsteady. He'd always made a practice of avoiding explosions and gunfire.

"Yeah," came her husky reply.

Abruptly, the drone of the helicopter seemed to fade, and the jungle was completely still—for about five minutes. When the usual cacophony of birdcalls, insects, and other creatures resumed, Lisbon and Jane felt certain that their attackers had left them—at least for now. By unspoken agreement, they decided to stay where they were for a while to be sure.

"They'll be back," said Jane. "They'll want to be sure we're dead."

Lisbon nodded. "We know where their hideout is, and by this time they've probably figured out we're both working for the FBI."

"Or, that I was so caught up by your..._charms_ that I allowed you to lure me back to civilization."

He felt her smile against his chest.

"They could have landed and come after us," Jane continued, "but the only spot clear of trees around here is probably the beach. It's really rocky on this side of the island, so I bet that wasn't an-"

Lisbon let out a shriek near his ear, deafening him for a moment while she did a little dance on the narrow ledge they stood upon, her movements threatening to send them both into the ravine.

"Something just crawled over my foot!"

Jane retrieved his flashlight from his pants pocket and shone it down at their feet.

"Well, whatever it was, it's gone now."

She was trembling in his arms. "Let's get the hell out of here," she said.

"Okay, take hold of this tree root and pull yourself up."

He was glad he'd gotten lost in the jungle with a woman in such great shape, and he admired the way her backside strained against her jeans as she climbed. At the top of the crevasse, she turned her head and looked down at him, raising her eyebrows when she caught him checking her out.

"Seriously?"

He chuckled as she shimmied up on her belly through the soft ferns, disappearing from his view.

"Now, your turn, Tarzan," she said mockingly from above.

He tugged on the root, testing to see if it would hold his weight, wondering if he was in shape enough to pull himself up under his own steam.

"No," he grunted, straining as he climbed, feet repelling against the rocky walls. "_Me_ Jane, _you_ Tarzan."

She laughed, then held her hands down to help him up the final two feet.

When they stood together again on solid ground, Jane took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, his eyes squeezed shut in relief.

"They'll bring the dogs now," he murmured, hating to break the mood.

She stiffened, pulling away to look at him. "The helicopter was a scout. They were trying to get us out into the open."

"And if they couldn't kill us, they could herd us back toward the compound," Jane concluded. "I'm betting the dogs and a few armed henchmen are on their way now. We'd better get a move on."

Lisbon reached a hand up to his brow, just above his right eye.

"You're bleeding."

He lifted his own hand and brought back blood. No wonder his head was pounding. He watched in amusement as she tore part of the bottom of her shirt off, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of bare midriff. She reached up to press the cotton fabric to his injury.

Jane grinned down at her, the adrenalin making him feel almost giddy. He wondered if he should tell her he had a handkerchief in his jacket pocket. No sense in that now, he supposed. If she wanted to be jungle girl...

He bent and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Thanks," he said. "Company's coming; we should go."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They reached the beach in about a half-hour, and it was just as Jane had predicted: instead of beautiful white sand as it was on the other side of the island, here, it was rocky and treacherous. The glare of the sun was at first blinding after the shade of the rainforest, and Jane held up a hand to shield his eyes against the glittering Caribbean.

"We should keep to the tree line," he suggested. "If that copter comes back, it will make it more difficult to see us."

Lisbon smirked a little; she had thought the exact same thing.

"What?" he asked, bemused.

"You. I'm used to you taking over back at home when we're on a case, and you're working at some scheme. But usually you back off at the least sign of physical peril."

He raised an eyebrow. "You calling me a sissy?"

She grinned mischievously. "Not anymore. Here, you've turned into a regular Indiana Jones. I'm impressed."

Jane smiled. "Gee, thanks."

She touched his cheek. "I mean it. If I had to be running for my life from a maniacal arms dealer, I'm glad it's with you." She looked softly into his eyes. "And besides, you're not afraid of snakes."

"Well, if you put it that way..."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, then they began walking quickly along the edge of the jungle, hurrying toward the village some miles away. Jane kept one eye on the water as they moved past it through the trees. A small fishing boat buffeted the waves not far offshore, and the more he stared at it, the more familiar it seemed. When they came directly in line with it, he stopped.

"What's wrong?" asked Lisbon.

"I know that boat."

"You're kidding me."

His smile lit his face. "Tell me, Lisbon, how do you feel about a Caribbean cruise?"

Before she could comment, Lisbon found herself stepping out into the dangerous open, picking her way carefully over a rocky beach toward the sea. While Jane was focused on the boat, Lisbon kept looking toward the sky, fearing the return of Castillo's helicopter. Closer to the water, Jane took off his suit coat and waved it in a wide arc overhead.

"Miguel!" he called, straining to be heard over the sound of the waves.

On the boat, a man had been moving about on the deck, hoisting up shrimp nets. At the distant sound of his name reached him, he looked up and caught sight of Jane.

"Miguel!"

The man stilled, net in hand, seemingly concentrating on the identity of the crazy man waving his jacket and calling his name. He took off his straw hat and bent his knees.

"Senor Jane?" he replied.

"Si! Si, it's me, Miguel! Can we come aboard?" Jane asked in Spanish.

The old man laughed in delight. "Si! But you will have to swim. I cannot get any closer to the rocks!"

"Okay! The senorita and I will be right there!"

"Jane," began Lisbon, eyeing the waves in trepidation. "How deep do you suppose that is?"

Jane's face suddenly fell. "You can't swim," he said, crestfallen. "Why didn't I know you can't swim?"

She straightened her spine. "It's not that I _can't_ swim. I just...don't."

Jane sighed. He wasn't sure how to handle a Lisbon who wasn't his idealized dream of Superwoman. Give her a gun, and she could conquer the world. Put her out of her element, in the jungle and in the sea, and she was well, just an ordinary woman.

"Look, the water's so clear you can see the bottom. It's probably no deeper than ten feet where Miguel is anchored. We'll walk as far as we can, then I'll hold you if need be. And don't worry about sharks," he added, predicting that to be her next question.

"Well, I wasn't worried _before,_" she said, bending to unzip her boots; Jane toed off his own shoes.

They both held them above their heads as they waded into the sea, Jane still carrying his suit coat. Beneath the water, the rocks were just as hazardous, and Jane had to steady Lisbon several times as she stumbled over them. But he faltered too, falling to his knees once and sputtering as Lisbon chuckled.

About halfway to Miguel's boat, the sea floor dropped off, and they had to swim the rest of the way. Lisbon held her own, dogpaddling as she held on to her soaking boots while Jane easily trod water, kicking his feet strongly to stay afloat. Miguel was waiting for them with a smile, tossing a rope ladder over the side. He held out an old blanket for them to dry off with.

When they were safely aboard, Jane gave the old man a wet hug, and then he introduced Lisbon.

"Aw, Senorita Teresa," he said in halting English. "Senor Jane talks about you all the time. He says you are a beautiful saint."

Lisbon blushed and smiled. "He is a very good liar," she said, but her eyes lovingly caressed a smiling Jane.

"I used to go fishing with Miguel," Jane explained. "I would help him with the nets and he would pay me with fresh shrimp. Best I ever tasted."

Jane draped the blanket over Lisbon's shoulders.

"Si," said Miguel. "Business not so good without my helper. Alfredo told me you went back to be an Americano again. I see why you did, amigo."

The old man's sparkling brown eyes looked upon Lisbon in appreciation. "A man would give up paradise for a woman such as this."

"Yes, he would."

"But tell me, Senor, why are you on this side of the island? Nothing here to see but the rocks and the snakes."

Jane's face grew serious, and he explained to his old friend in Spanish how they were trying to bring down Castillo.

"Those explosions I heard. They were for you?"

Jane nodded gravely.

"We need a ride back to the village. It might be dangerous for you, if Castillo figures out we're on your boat. No hard feelings if you refuse, my friend."

Miguel seemed almost offended by Jane's concern.

"There is not even a question, Senor. Go down in the cabin and hide yourselves. When Castillo comes back, he cannot see you on my boat."

"Of course," agreed Jane.

"Go now. I will prepare to leave this place."

"Thank you, Miguel. You are quite literally a life-saver."

"If you are ridding the island of this snake, it is I who is grateful."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was hot and humid inside the tiny cabin of Miguel's boat, despite the open porthole and hatch. The old man weighed anchor and turned the boat toward home, the ancient outboard motor chugging along toward the village. Miguel retrieved a couple of servesas from an ice chest and tossed them to Jane and Lisbon, then he shared the arepas and cold shrimp his wife had packed for his lunch. It was perhaps the most delicious meal they'd ever tasted. They sat on the low benches inside the cabin across from each other, sipping their beer, a wave of exhaustion washing over them as surely as the waves outside the window.

Lisbon looked at Jane as he chewed in appreciation, and leaned back tiredly against the inside wall of the boat. His eyes, against the backdrop of the Caribbean Sea over his shoulder, seemed to take on its very color, a shimmering blue-green.

Had she been braver, she would have told him how beautiful they were, how beautiful he was, the man entire. He caught her watching him and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"I love you too," he whispered, for he must have read that emotion clearly enough in her own eyes. Her cheeks grew even warmer at the passion in his gaze. "We're going to make it, Teresa."

She nodded. "Yes," she said simply and reached for his hand.

They had gone perhaps a mile when they could hear the drone of the approaching helicopter. They moved further back into the small room and shut the hatch and porthole, effectively cutting off any breeze they had enjoyed. But thankfully, the helicopter did not come any closer to Miguel's boat. The dogs would find their scent again soon enough, however, and it wouldn't take long for them to figure out what had happened to them.

Lisbon wondered if they would have a welcoming committee when they docked at the village marina. Jane was thinking along those same lines, and he stood, then hunched over beneath the low ceiling to push open the hatch that led to the deck. Miguel stood at the helm, his khaki pants drooping about his shrunk shanks, his crisp shirt of a fabric similar to one that Jane had from his days on the island. Once again, he wore his wide-brimmed straw hat.

"You should put in at a private dock," he advised the old man in Spanish. "Castillo's men will likely be waiting for us at the marina."

"Si. I thought of that. We will go to my brother's. It is a mile before the village."

Jane grinned. "Good man. I'll see that the FBI reimburses you double for your lost catch today."

"Triple," countered Miguel, looking back at him sagely.

Jane laughed. Miguel was the best businessman he knew.

**A/N: I've enjoyed showing another side of both of these characters. I hope it rings true, given what we know of Lisbon's fear of things from nature, and of Jane, who spent two years living like a native on this South American island. If not, thanks for the indulgence. I would love to hear what you think of this chapter.**

**Waterbaby is up next!**


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